


The Beast Awakens

by aliahadeline



Category: Black Swan (2010), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Delusions, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Breakdown, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Beta Read, Rough Oral Sex, Thriller, black swan au, i am so sorry to every ballet dancer ever, new york ballet, oh god i'm so so sorry, sukuna is nice? what?, wait seriously?, yuuji and sukuna are twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 36,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliahadeline/pseuds/aliahadeline
Summary: Megumi has a dream, unattainable in all the eyes of everyone around him. But it is as dear to him as his passion for his art and Megumi will do anything to have it. It's the beginning of a new season for the New York Dance Company and little does he know the director, Gojo Satoru, has his eyes on him. That is, till a new dancer comes with tattoos all across his body.did the himbo who decided one movie au wasn't enough write a black swan au? yes, yes they did.
Relationships: Fushiguro Megumi/Gojo Satoru, Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji, Fushiguro Megumi/Sukuna | Ryomen Sukuna, Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru/Sukuna | Ryoumen Sukuna, Inumaki Toge/Okkotsu Yuuta, Kugisaki Nobara/Zenin Maki
Comments: 20
Kudos: 87





	1. act 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Black Swan is a film directed by Darren Aronofsky.
> 
> Hello y'all! I'm back with my dumbassery. I use to dance long story short and I loved ballet with all of me. I still do, but it is long gone and that's okay! Anyhoo, I do not remember the correct names for any moves anymore. I was extremely disappointed with myself and how I described the dancing. 
> 
> So proceed with caution if you are a dancer. And if you aren't one make it up! Let that imagination run wild babe, you're fucking beautiful. Can u tell I'm on the verge of tears??????????
> 
> ALSO. MEN. CAN. WEAR. POINTE. SHOES! 
> 
> warnings: graphic depiction of self-harm, graphic depiction of injury and gore, non-con kissing, bullying, tripping out on whatever the hell idk drugs?

Bathed in silver light, a figure delicately extends their hand to rest it gently at their side like a flutter of wings. Silent in their controlled breaths, the chorus of violins crescendo beneath their feet, electrocuting through their body. With the flow of a great current the man in white raises his arms, his feet in perfect technique as he flutters across the blackened stage in various twists of his body. The pointe shoes glisten in the softness of the stage light, all around him an encompassing black. He is completely and utterly taken into this world, a slight smile on his lips as he sways his legs and arches his neck backward. He lowers to the floor with utmost strength, as delicate as a fluff of dandelion, resting on his leg as his hands flutter to his side. Amongst the great trail of white tulle around his body he rests in the sea of white fog. The music sours as he looks about the room in wonder, eyes alight with a curious playful air. So pure this man was. So taken aback by all the enchantment the world could bring to one's fingertips. 

The cool fog around him wraps around his figure, another, a man in pure black following about him. They race in harsh circles around one another and the pale man's chest tightens in his heated breaths. His brows furrow, etching fear into his skin as he steps, unable to turn his head back to the figure. The sudden wisps of air that echoed about turn soft, slow refined movements overtaking them. Sweat glistens across his brow as his heart thunders louder. _He will be taken whole._ Each step is followed by another in raven black till their hands move through the air in quick motions, proud and pompous. The young man copies like a puppet pulled along by its puppeteer, unable to control any movement of his arms as he is forced to flit like a crow. The youth runs and the figure turns, suddenly encompassed in the shadow, a great beast with horns emerging. Piercing eyes hold him down as long thorn like hands grab him and turn him against his will. He is lifted and all he can do is perform, a pas de deux with eyes lit ablaze in fear as he is forced to comply. _To submit._

He reaches his arms for the spotlight, pointe shoes trembling in their hold to keep him upright. The beast holding him and forcefully turns his body, again and again, the music crescendo reaches its peak. _It’s so loud. So very loud._ The strings sound like they are crying, wailing for the beast to let him go. Suddenly, the young pale man is let go, arms moving like in a soft flutter of movement toward the moon. He has become the swan. The White Swan. 

Megumi smiles groggily in bed as he stares up at his white ceiling. Of course, it was a dream. The bedroom stays in its calm stillness as his heart beats loudly in his chest. His door creaks open, the sunlight from the morning sun cascading across his face. Tsumiki nods at him and he sleepily rubs his eyes, rolling his neck around when he fully sits up. He better get up before he falls under again. So Megumi does, though sluggish, adjusting himself to the edge of his bed. The cold of crisp morning air wraps around him and he flexes his feet, the crack of bones echoing through the quiet of the room.

Before he knows it he’s stretching before his mirror, raising his leg toward the sky like a cat and leaning further into his knee. 

“I had the craziest dream last night. I was dancing the White Swan.” Megumi mutters, voice still a rasp as he sits up straighter, letting his legs extend beneath him. He does this every day yet it still hurts. It will probably always hurt though, so the thought seeps away like smoke from a stirring pot of tea. He breathes out deeply and lowers himself into a split. Winter season will soon begin, their busiest time of the year. Packed schedules, tighter rehearsals. Perhaps the Nutcracker will feature again. 

“It was different choreography though, like the Bolshoi’s. It was the prologue when Rothbart casts his spell.” Still no answer. Tsumiki works busily in the kitchen preparing their food for the day. He can smell the faint fish as it sizzles in a pan. Megumi brings his knees to his chest, a somber smile on his lips. He did this much too often, didn’t he? Dream and _only that._ Never fully grasping it. 

“Look at that. Isn’t it pretty?” Tsumiki giggles as she sets down a plate. Megumi gazes over his plate, half a grapefruit and boiled egg. Megumi doesn’t mind it, though his stomach begs to differ. He will stay in pristine shape no matter what, if anything, more lithe. Perhaps he can look like a spirit floating amongst the stage lights. Well, _he will,_ he just has to rent a room to practice more. 

“It’s so pink,” Megumi mumbles into his palm, yawning as more of the sun flitters through their windows. 

“You’re in a good mood.” Tsumiki smiles, getting back to the stove. How could he not though? He's grateful. Just because he had a good dream for once didn't change the fact they’re here, living on their own. Able to be supported through continuous hard work and just _be there_ for each other. Tsumiki especially. She always works so hard. 

“He promised to feature me more this year,” Megumi mutters into his spoon. Hopefully, with that he’ll be able to contribute more to their finances. Rent especially with it raising so much lately.

“Well, he certainly should. You’ve been there long enough. And you’re the most dedicated dancer in the company.” Tsumiki nods, full of determination. Megumi ducks his head at this, a slight blush warming his cheeks. Tsumiki is so silly. There were so many talented people in the company Megumi could hardly keep up. Her lithe body winds around their counter, a thin cardigan in her hands. She’s so small yet she helps him like he’s still that little boy he once was. 

“Up?” _God, and she still uses that voice._ But Megumi can’t fight it. His sister will have her way or the highway. He sighs in defeat and raises his hands. Tsumiki’s body stiffens behind him, the sudden jerk catching at the corner of his eye. 

“What’s that?” _Why does she sound so frightened? What’s wrong?_ Megumi fights his body’s immediate reaction to freeze up and turn.

“What?” Megumi raises a brow instead, trying to be as casual as possible. His turns his head back to look at her. Tsumiki’s eyes are blown so wide. _Why - What is she freaking out about?_

“That.” Tsumiki drags him to a mirror and Megumi looks nonchalantly. A long reddened scratch rests between his shoulder blades. _Oh, shit..._

“Nothing.” Megumi shrugs as casually as he can muster and slips on his cardigan. He can’t make her worry any more than she already does. She has a big enough load already. Besides, he isn’t a child anymore. She needs to see that. He can take care of himself. 

Tsumiki frowns for a moment as she looks into Megumi’s eyes. Megumi swallows, hoping the morning daze is enough to hide his swirling thoughts. _He’s got this. Seriously._ She doesn’t push any further, thankfully, a soft smile returning to her lips.

“Sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Megumi rolls his eyes and her hands pat his head gently. He lowers further so she can fully grasp his face and her smile widens. At least, if anything, he has her with him. She squeezes his cheeks in glee.

“My sweet Megumi!” Tsumiki sighs, shaking his head back and forth. Megumi softly smiles as if lulled to sleep in her gentle hold. Even now, though he towers over her, she treats him like a precious babe. Tsumiki wraps her arms around him and holds him close. Megumi sighs into her heat and nestles his nose into her neck. They hardly have the time any more to hang out, and now with the season beginning that slim exchange of conversation will thin further. 

The subway ride is just as shaky as it usually is. He usually spaces out letting his mind wander. Groceries, new pointe shoes. He better stop by the shop by the center since they wear out so fast. And it wasn't like many places had pointe shoes for males either. The shipment of his order from Europe is still yet to come. He's been waiting - A blare of the train interrupts him. 

Megumi stiffens for a moment in the bouncing lights of reflections in the glass of the doors. In this swarm of colors, his eyes catch another from across the train car. Their broad figure adorned a black coat, around their neck a bundled gray scarf. The other is listening to music, relaxed in his movements as he scratches his ear, from behind his beanie. Megumi had unconsciously copied him. The young dancer lowers his hand, a swarm of ants filling his stomach. _What the hell?_

They have the same gray beanie, same build. He’s sure if he were to stand beside them, they’d be twins. It’s unnerving, like seeing an opposite you in a reflection. His breath stutters as he shakes his head. _What is he thinking?_ The man hurries out the doors and Megumi sways, eyes following their figure till they disappear in the crowd.

Megumi walks up the subway stairs, back into the morning bustle of the New York he’s known all his life. He sighs, making his way across the front of Lincoln Center. Such a big theater it was, towering over him. Nothing like the other modern buildings, but its presence was much to uphold. How he got here, even Megumi doesn’t know. It seems so long ago now when he had first come here with Tsumiki.

The thing about New York was, it really was as people said, a concrete jungle. They tried to make up for it with refined greenery but, even in the dull autumn and overcast sky, the trees appear solemn. Megumi looks at the posters surrounding the building, their last lead, Getou Suguru staring deeply into his soul. It makes his blood pulse as Getou looks as serene as a saint. If that were him, Megumi wouldn't know what to do. It would be everything and more. A chance, a single chance is all he wants. _The lead dancer._ Megumi shudders in the cold as he quickly rushes to the blackened glass doors.

“Did you see Getou today?” The usual aura of the dressing room is dampened by harsh shushed voices. _God, was that all Mahito knew how to do?_ Megumi doesn’t think there’s ever been a day he wasn’t complaining or making some snarky remark. 

“I can’t believe he’s back.” And of course, another soloist would join in. That’s all anyone ever talks about. Rumors, gossip about other dancers. Megumi combs the last of his hair. No use, it will stay in its unruly curls. 

“Of course he’s back, you think he can take a hint? Company’s broke. No one comes to see him anymore.” 

“No one comes to see ballet period.” Mahito frowns at the response in the reflection. Megumi sat right across so he could always see the others and vise versa.

“That’s not true, I heard the Royal had one of their best seasons yet.” Mahito chides back, twisting open some mascara.

“He needs to try something new that’s all.”

“No, someone new.” Megumi looks back down from his mirror to his hands. _Someone new. Who will it be?_ It makes his whole body shake with nerves.

“Like who?”

“Like someone not past their prime.” Mahito snickers. _God, these assholes._ Getou is -

“It’s sad,” Megumi mutters, thinking they wouldn’t pay him any mind. They’ve all been here so long now, it hardly mattered if they actually paid him any attention for once.

“What’s sad.” Mahito sighs, resting his hand on his chin. Displeasure. Megumi swallows. 

“Getou’s such a beautiful dancer.” And he means it. Megumi means everything he says. But Mahito isn’t fazed. In fact, his smile only widens.

“Yeah, so is my grandmother.” A few more snicker. 

“Fonteyn danced into her 50’s…” Megumi remarks back. Anyone can dance for however long they please. So long as hard work and technique is performed adequately nothing could get in one’s way.

“Yeah, we know.” Mahito rolls his eyes. They’re used to hearing that aren’t they. Everyone’s so tired of his remarks, not Mahito's. It’s not like they matter. But Megumi always found a way to make everyone annoyed. And it wasn't by any means intentional. It's just that when he had something to say, despite being shy, he didn’t back down. 

A hurried figure rushes to the doorway, metal jewelry dangling about with his backpack. Everyone stiffens, wide eyes looking over the newcomer. _Who in the world is this?_

“Soloists?” The man huffs out with a smile. He’s so tan as if golden sunlight came through the overcast sky. And his face is adorned in perfectly symmetrical markings. _Tattoos? But, how? Who - Who is this?_ No one bothers to answer, wary by the sudden entrance. 

The strange man rips off his gray beanie, bright peach hair standing upright. A thick hand slicks it over, metal rings and silver earrings jostling in the swift movement. He’s beautiful, utterly captivating. Despite his body covered in such a large black coat he is no doubt in pristine shape, chiseled as finely as Michelangelo's David. _God, what is he thinking? He's staring like a complete idiot._ Megumi nods softly, taking a chance to look the tan man in the eye. He swears for a moment honey brown flashes red. 

“Great. I fucking missed my stop.” He sighs, rolling his neck as he sauntered over to the empty space across the room. He throws his bag on the counter and everyone flinches at the boarish movement. No one can bring themself to speak. Even Megumi is surprised at how Mahito is staying utterly still. 

“Had to hoof it from 79th.” He continues as if to joke but no one laughs. Megumi stares at the various faces, a different color of fear painted along their features. The young men look around at each other and the tanner raises his brow, a slight scoff forming on his lips. He looks around at the quiet figures and chuckles out, ‘Okay…’ as if to keep at bay the awkwardly suffocating silence. 

Megumi can’t help himself, even as everyone slowly begins to go back to getting ready. He watches in wonder as the man casually pulls out his earphones with a smirk. _How can someone be so magnetic?_ The perfect stage presence. And everyone noticed it too. But he isn't unnerved by the uncomfortable air. He’s so - _relaxed._ Much too casual about everything. Perhaps he’s here on a job for a show. A hired soloist from somewhere, definitely not New York based. Megumi doesn't know what he’ll do if this stranger joins. Any chance he ever thought he had would be thoroughly snuffed out. 

The pale man begins breaking in his shoes to distract himself, banging it on the floor and ripping out the inside. With his needle and thread he sows on his new ribbons with precision. He’s been doing it for years after all, to the point new youth sometimes asked him for help. He’s always happy to, even if he’s as quiet as they come. They’re like little ducks. Megumi pulls out his scissors and begins scratching up the sole of his shoe, stretching it in his firm grip. Anyone is allowed to wear pointe shoes for the last few years now. A new installment as a means of bringing in a bigger audience. He doesn’t know how well it’s worked though as Getou never performed on pointe. But for them to get any news coverage at all they will have to do something spectacular. He slips them on, fastening the ribbon around his ankles. With his gray sweats slipped on, he stretches his feet about, feeling the sturdiness against him. A pleasant firmness. 

The Ballet Mistress speaks and they follow her every command. All in unison their legs, hands, and feet move steadily in tandem with the quick pace of the piano music. Nanami was always there for every practice, giving his all into his pieces which inspired Megumi to do the same thought he’d never tell him. 

“To the back, fondu, to the back, plie. Fourth, fourth, and one and fifth, to the back…” The Ballet Mistress walks down an aisle of dancers, mumbling to a corps member, “Like this. Push it. Why can’t you do this?”

She makes her way to Megumi’s row and his heart quickens. 

“Beautiful as always Megumi. Relax.” She chides but Megumi can’t relax. He stares as seriously as he can, straight ahead. Always do your best. If not your best, better. _Come on Megumi. Do it better._

“And one, and two, and three, and four.” A man enters as the whole company continues in their warm ups and the Ballet Mistress straightens. She claps her hands together singing out, “Stop Nanami, one sec.”

Everyone relaxes for a moment, resting their hands at their sides in second position. When they notice the presence a flicker of life bursts through the room. All at once people remove their cardigans, fix their skirts. Some remove their feet warmers, mainly removing any of their warm up gear to show off their bodies. The Director nods and the woman smiles, clapping her hands again. A sliver of fear grips at his chest. _He’s here._ Gojo Satoru, company director for as long as Megumi could remember. Alluring to the eye and intense as always. 

“And three, and up…” They begin again. The Director's footsteps echo through the hall, down he goes, gaze flickering across every single one of them like a divine being commencing judgment. But Gojo _is_ one, a god amongst men _._ Modern and classical ballet could hold nothing to him. Even in debt, Megumi would follow. His vision _is everything._

Gojo comes to the center, leaning down and hugging the woman, a soft smile on his lips. He makes his way across the various barres in methodical steps, taking his time as he looks at every dancer. It makes Megumi swallow and hold tighter to the metal beneath his hand. One by one Gojo begins to tap various people’s shoulders. _What is that? What does it mean? Are those to be chosen for the next lead?_

“We all know the story: virginal girl, pure and sweet, trapped in the body of a swan. She desires freedom, but only true love can break the spell.” Gojo’s voice is so crisp. It’s so clear as it echoes through the bustle of movement and piano beats. Megumi watches others as well in their respective gazes. 

“Her wish is granted in the form of a prince.” Respect drips from their chins, eyes flighty whenever Gojo happened to grace a spare glance at them with his bright sky eyes. Even the man from earlier, tan and covered in a tight black long sleeve muscle shirt, watches with a light in his eye as Gojo glides across the company. 

“But, before he can declare his love, the lustful twin, the black swan, tricks and seduces him.” Gojo’s eyes flutter over Megumi’s body in one swift movement. _What? Shit - Megumi focus. This is your chance!_ Yet his body can only continue in what has been engraved into it. Megumi’s chest tightens. His deep blue eyes look away from the piercing gaze to the floor beneath him, neck still arched upward as his arms move through the air. The Director pats the man in front of him, then another who smirks with a triumphant raise of their brow. _Fuck. Fuck -_

“Devastated, the White Swan leapt off a cliff, killing herself. But, in death, finds freedom.” The ethereal man’s white hands clap together, the music stopping instantly. 

“Good morning company.” There was just something so magnetic about the way Gojo held himself. With confidence and the skill to match it, he could be as entertaining or as serious as he wished at the flip of a coin. Megumi feels his spine straighten further, his chest rising and falling quickly to take in the cold air. _What did he think - That he could actually be a lead?_

“Good morning.” Everyone replies and Gojo smiles, teeth as white as irises. 

“We open our season with Swan Lake. Done to death I know, but _not_ like this. We strip it down, make it visceral and real.” Everyone's captivated on his words like bees to honey as he pauses with a large smile. Megumi’s heart thunders louder in his chest. “And a new production needs a new Swan Queen. A fresh face to present to the world.”

All at once, everyone tries to keep their cool. _A new lead. A new lead dancer!_ So Mahito’s suspicions were right. _This is crazy._ Getou has been the lead for years, practically right when Megumi first joined the company. Despite battered breaths and overall excitement, everyone manages to keep their calm facade. 

“But, which of you, can embody both swans? The white and the black?” _Both swans? Has that ever been done before? God, why was he so hopeful?_ Megumi can’t do that. Besides, he’s a male. Despite the promo for Getou as a lead, he was no Sergei Polunin. He still had to shine behind a ballerina like the rest of them. 

“All the soloists I touched... Please go to your scheduled rehearsals this afternoon.” Megumi raises his brow. _Wait - What? WHAT?_ He had touched both males and females. _No - No way... No freaking way!_

“Everyone I didn’t tap, meet me in the principal studio at five.” At that, he leaves and a few smile in embarrassment from their proud smirks only a moment ago. _Holy shit - Holy shit! Wait, what?_ He should call Tsumiki! _No, no._ Nothing’s even happened yet. Still, a giddy closed smile falls across his face. _This is it. His chance._

Megumi eyes turn to the tan male a barre away. The other rolls his neck again, a sliver of his neck showing from his turtleneck. A tattoo, angular and sharp like the ones adorning his face. _Does it wrap around his body?_ Megumi can’t help but wonder. That would prove troublesome, especially for the makeup crew, but, despite that - it suits him. _Don’t_ _think about that right now! You have to focus._ But the shorter’s head moved curtly back to the barre, earrings jostling. He was not tapped either, Megumi had watched from the corner of his eye. He'll see him again and he'll see… Megumi holds back a sigh as he catches the glint of Mahito’s eye. Mahito licks his lips with triumphant greed and gets back into position as the Ballet Mistress begins their warm ups. Of course, he wasn't tapped as well. Despite his bitchiness he knew what he was doing. 

And so, as if the Director had never graced them with his presence, they return to the rhythm in unison as the piano keys echo throughout the room. 

Megumi rests against the hall floors, letting his hands waft through the space around him as his legs extend. He closes his eyes, lets his mouth fall agape as he breathes in quiet breaths. It’s as if he can taste it, feel the fabric on his skin. Feel the harsh spotlight illuminate his face. He wants to be on that stage. Perform his best. _His absolute peak._

A sudden crash startles him and his eyes shoot open. Megumi’s entire body stiffens as glass continues to break in sharp, rigid movements, though muffled from the creak of a door. He quietly makes his way across the hall. It’s Getou Suguru in the principal dressing room as he should be. Though, not for much longer. This is the last chance he'll ever be in this room by himself.

Getou is breaking vases, the large mirror on the edge of the wall thoroughly cracked. He kicks at his chair, so rough and animalistic Megumi fidgets in place. 

“Fuck… Fuck!” Getou gripes, stumbling out of the room and Megumi shuffles back. _Shit. He doesn’t have enough time to run away._ Getou sighs out tiredly, looking down at Megumi like a predator regarding pathetic prey. Megumi can do nothing but stay in place as his breath escapes him. _God - He’s terrifying._

Getou used to have such a kind expression. He was Megumi's role model for the longest time, Gojo and him, the finest ballet duo. And it only inspired him further as they were both Japanese. It meant he could do it too if he worked hard enough. An inspiration to take his dream this far, as far as it's been till this point.

“What?” Getou snipes at the younger and Megumi closes his mouth, looking to the floor beneath him. In a way, there’s still the respect he’s always had for the older. Though it's dampened in fear, Megumi wishes his throat could work. Do anything to soothe the older's mind. Getou turns away and walks briskly down the hall. 

The door the older had tried to close, slowly squeaks open. Megumi walks inside, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t know why. A force of some kind perhaps, pushed him, lured him close. So _this_ was the room. He sits and gazes at himself in the mirror. It’s a clutter of various theater items. It's elegant and _his alone_ in this moment. 

Amongst the mess, a lipstick case resides on a golden box. Megumi takes it in his cold hands, uncaping it. Red, a luscious deep red. _Take it. Take me._ He puts it in his pocket slowly and hurriedly makes his way out of the room. _What the hell is wrong with him?_ _Why would - Why does Getou have something like this?_ But his knees are buckling. His chest is so tight it might snap in two like a string. He’s glad he had gotten out of there, out of the loudness of that room. Something tells Megumi if he were to stay inside, he would go mad too. 

Megumi dances with as much grace and technique as he can muster, muscles firm as he extends outward in his spins. After all, only a few of the best company soloists are watching. He cannot fail. If he does this, he might actually have a shot at being a lead this year. Gojo nods his head at every intake of pointed toe to calf, Megumi masterly weaving himself as a pure sprite along a lake. His heart is pounding, thundering against his ribs. His ears can hear it, the maddening beat as it pulses in his ears.

The music stops and Gojo comes toward him, his large shadow overtaking Megumi’s frame. He can’t bring himself to move, his breath stuttering as he looks to the floor. _Why is he - What is -_ Gojo lowers himself just slightly, the scent of coffee and cologne filling the younger's senses. Megumi can feel his breath along his ear as a deep rasp mutters into it. 

“If I was only casting the White Swan, she would be yours.” Megumi smiles, wordless. _Has he ever been gifted with such a compliment? Gojo Satoru just complimented him._

“But, I’m not.” The Director enunciates, leaning back with his hands in his pocket. “Maestro, Odile’s Coda.” 

Nanami nods at him, turning the pages of his music sheets. Megumi can’t breathe. It’s so very tight, the core of his sternum. His body longs to run, sprint away and never return. Megumi doesn't back down though. He stares straight ahead into the mirror to see his flushed face and sweat along his brow. 

“Show me your Black Swan, Fushiguro.” Gojo gestures firmly, stepping back to the mirrored wall. Megumi’s breath trembles as he pushes the tip of his pointe shoes one at a time into the floor. _Come on Megumi, you can do this. This is what you’ve been waiting for. The chance that will change everything._ The Black Swans Coda. This is the most famous part of the ballet, thirty two consecutive fouettes. And the most difficult. _Can he do this? All of those spins? No - No! Don't think. Perform._

 _He must._

Megumi begins. He turns, soft but firm, body lifting to his toes at each motion. As his body weaves faster into the floor he lets his arms extend further. 

“Not so controlled. Seduce us.” _Fuck - Fuck. Calm down, just keep going._ Megumi lets his hands expand wider but he cannot be so carefree. His hands, his arms, every muscle on his body can't seem to soften. He doesn’t remember ever doing that. He’s never been captivating, enthralling. Fushiguro Megumi has never danced to seduce. No _, stop it! Don’t think! Perform. Come on!_ Perfect technique is the only option, uniform and strong. That is how the Black Swan should be. But the Black Swan isn't -

“Seduce not just the price but the court, the entire audience. The entire world. Come on!” Megumi tries to spin harder. More passionate but his legs continue in their quick movements, stern and heroic. Gojo frowns in the corner of his eye.

"The fouettes are like a spider spinning her web. Come on!” A shaky exhale leaves Megumi's mouth. His eyes water over, an ache overtaking them in the harsh light. _Fuck, come on! Do it! Just do what he’s telling you!_ Megumi’s heart pierces his lungs further, the back of his throat tightening. 

“Attack it!” He looks to Gojo as his center point during the spin. Stupid move. The Director looks so frustrated with him. _Don’t cry, don’t cry. Don’t cry -_

“Attack it! Come on!” Gojo yells again and Megumi holds back a choke. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Come on, Megumi just -_ The door crashes open and he loses his footing, stumbling forward slightly. _Oh shit,_ if anything that is the final trigger. Megumi didn’t even finish it. _Couldn’t._ The door closes, its harsh metal echoing throughout the room with the endnotes of the piano keys. Megumi is heaving, sweat dripping from his jaw to the floor. 

“Well, good of you to join us.” Gojo chastises and the man, same as before with his face tattoos, smiles. The new arrival. 

“Sorry.” The stranger chuckles, removing his ear phones. Megumi blinks back his frustrated tears. The tattooed man seems busy standing around, shoulders back and proud.

“Everyone, this is Ryomen Sukuna. Just got off the plane from San Francisco. He’s filling Junpei’s old spot.”

“Hey.” Ryomen waves with a faint smirk. His metal earrings jingle in that movement, rough and unkempt hair slicked back. 

“Get warmed up.” Gojo’s voice is still frustrated. _God, he was the one who did that._ But now the Director is annoyed even further by the tardiness of the newcomer. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m good.” Gojo blinks at this reply, his frown faltering slightly. He seems - amused. Such a renowned man as Gojo was given the respect required, especially for a role as this. Yet Ryomen doesn’t seem to care, he’s still smiling as if he has the whole of them in his palm. And Megumi is yet to ever see a mainstream company perform with the possibility of a male as Odette. Why be late to something as life changing as that.

 _Fuck. He’s blown it._ Megumi’s fucking blown it and there’s nothing he can do. What _should_ he do? _He can do it again, maybe be quicker in his step. More straight and dignified. But that isn't -_

“Should I go again?” Megumi calls into the silence. 

“No thanks. I’ve seen enough.” Gojo mutters, gaze never leaving Ryomen’s as the older walks across the room. Megumi shrinks into himself, knuckles turning bone white. At that, Megumi is forgotten into the shadows. _Just like that, huh? His chance… gone?_ Like blowing out a candle with a simple sigh.

“Okay, Mahito the white swan variation.” The Director continues, waving for the paler to come forward. Megumi hurriedly leaves the center of the floor to where the other dancers rest. As he grabs his bag he’s elbowed by Ryomen who takes off his black sweatshirt in a single swift movement. That is how the Black Swan should be. The somewhat shorter nods in apology but Megumi can’t reply. His head is a swimming mess. A disaster of colors and noise, thoroughly fogged over. He can’t focus on anything besides the piercing pain in his chest. It throbs and pulses through his veins. Megumi’s never felt so cold as his body seeps in sweat.

_He’s fucked up. Megumi has fucked up. His chance. His chance. His chance..._

“All right, Maestro. Two, three -” Megumi fumbles out of the door. 

Megumi walks down the streets of New York. It’s late now, the night sky black around him despite the lights that emit from all the vibrant buildings. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out. Tsumiki. She must want to know what happened. After all he couldn’t think, only text AUDITION in big letters and that was several hours ago. The pale man shuts off his phone and turns a corner, stepping beneath construction over a sidewalk. It’s been like this for a while, at night seemingly more eerie than it should be. Especially now, it’s strangely quiet around here. 

As he begins to descend across the pavement another figure looms in the distance. So lithe they are, like a ghost flickering between life and death. Yet, Megumi doesn’t know why he’s stopped. But his heart has quickened, his knees had locked in place. _What is he thinking? Don’t be stupid._ Megumi shakes his head and forces himself to walk forward, getting closer and closer to the willowy figure. This pathway seems endless in its hanging lights. _Come on. Move your legs. Keep going._

Beneath the various light bulbs that dance across their faces, slowly but surely the man comes to life in front of his eyes. It’s him, _his face_. Adorned in black with a look of desire across his features, long lashes flutter for a moment in the second they pass one another. Megumi’s eyes widen as he blinks, turning his head as he passes, the man does too with raised brows. It’s not his face anymore - _What the hell?_ For a moment, and only a moment, he thought he’d passed himself, but _it was different._ He wasn’t - _that isn’t how he looks._ Megumi has _never_ looked like that before. 

Megumi opens his apartment door and locks it, sliding the bolded chain in brisk movements. All the nervous bile that threatened to fall comes to life again, bubbling in his stomach. 

“So how’d it go? You were late so I called Shoko in the office.” Tsumiki is so excited. She helps him out of his coat, adjusting his thin cardigan back on his shoulders.

“An audition! I can’t believe they sprang that on you.” She giggles, folding his coat. She looks up with wide eyes. “So?” 

“It was -” Megumi swallows, eyes glazing over. His throat hurts so much. “ _Fine._ ”

“Just fine?” Megumi wraps his arms around his sister's neck tightly. He chokes out a sob as her warm hands run across the expanse of his back. 

“Oh, sweetheart...” Tsumiki holds him closer. Megumi holds back his whines as he wraps tighter to her small neck. _Why did he have to fail her so much? Why wasn’t he good enough?_

“You tell me about it.” She sighs, patting his back as he nestles closer. _How can she be so kind to him?_ He’s a failure. An absolute _failure._

After he dried off the last of his tears he went to the mirror in their makeshift living room. Megumi fastens his pointe shoes quickly, Tsumiki's voice muffled by the blood in his ears. She's on the phone. What if she's talking about him? No, it's probably one of her students. _Don't lose focus._

He rises, taking in a deep breath as he stares himself down in the mirror. _Come on Megumi. Do this. Do. This._

He raises his hands, lowering himself as he begins to spin. His leg pushes him up to his toe as his leg bends, each extend of long muscle followed with a creak on the floor. The floor beneath him is so weathered from his practice permanent marks are etched into its wood. _Harder, Megumi. Harder_. He twists himself as forcefully as he can muster, neck snapping to his target. _Attack it. Attack it._ Around him everything blurs for that single moment of his eyes in the reflection. _Again, again, again, againagainagainagian…_

The sound of something crunching together and a piercing pain stops him all together, the momentum of his vigorous movements slowing as his heel slides along the wood. Megumi grimaces as he sits on the floor, grabbing to his ankle. 

“Megumi? Everything alright?” Tsumiki’s muffled voice carries through the hall. 

“I’m fine!” Megumi calls back. He undoes his shoe and removes his stocking, his toenail bloody and cracked. _Shit, that looks bad._ His nail is thoroughly roughed up at its edge, ripped in half at its center. He winces, grabbing it in his long fingers as the metallic scent wafts through the air. _Damn it._ But, if this is what has to happen, he'll live through hell. He’d done it, the thirty two fouettes. It’s evident by his heaving chest, the glisten of sweat along his collarbones. He _can_ do it. 

Megumi’s leg flies back as his sister applies more pressure on it. 

“Oh, shh, shh… Almost done.” She sings as he grabs his calf again. Megumi’s frowns. 

“You’re working yourself too hard. We all have bad days.”

“If he hadn’t just barged in.” Megumi mumbles and his sister shakes her head.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to. Remember when you first started? If I hadn’t taken you, you would have been completely lost.” A soft expression soothed across her, a giggle at the memory. Megumi was a floundering fish back then. But no longer. No, he will make her proud. He will become proud of himself, no matter the cost. 

“I’m gonna talk to him tomorrow. I’m gonna tell him I’m gonna finish it.” He snipes. 

“You don’t need to lie.” Megumi looks up, a pain shooting in his chest. His sister smiles softly at him. _Is there pity in her eyes?_ _Like she knows he’ll never be as good as her?_

“You won’t convince him one way or the other.” Megumi’s frown deepens as he looks away. He knows what she’s saying is true but it still - hurts. He lays down on his pillow roughly.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know it’s disappointing. And when you start getting older there’s all this ridiculous pressure. God knows I understand. But it’s alright.” Tsumiki stands from the bed. 

“No matter what you’ll probably get to dance the Pas de Quatre again. That’s such a wonderful part. Or maybe he’ll make you a Big Swan. Either way, you’ll shine.” Tsumiki whispers as she sets down a music box beside him from where she had wondered. It’s gentle music wafts through the air, Tchaikovsky’s waltz filling the room.

“I know.”

“Everything will be better in the morning. It always is.” Tsumiki’s soft hands run down his scalp and Megumi turns slightly to look up at her. “My sweet little brother.” 

In the reflection across from him on the shaky subway, Megumi glides across his lips the red lipstick he had found in Getou’s changing room. _Doesn’t Tsumiki understand?_ She isn’t his mother no matter how hard she tries. He’s an adult too. Megumi traces along the indent of his cupid's bow as best as he can muster. Still around him everything is loud, the handles overhead swaying. He rubs the bulbs of his lips together, determined. 

It feels so strange though. Megumi plays with his lips in the pads of his fingertips as he waits outside Gojo’s office. Footsteps approach and he looks up with a slight smile as Gojo raises a brow at him from behind the black tint of his sunglasses. The Director seems shocked but he won’t allow it to get the better of him. 

“Yes, Fushiguro?” Gojo’s voice is soft. He always used such a sweet tone with him outside of rehearsal, as if treading around a delicate flower. And Megumi is thankful. He is so afraid, if the rapid beating of his heart was any indication. His stomach twists as he gathers up the courage to ask, “Do you have a minute?” 

God, he must sound so childish, like a little girl asking her father. But Gojo pays his tone no mind, perhaps used to it after all these years. The taller opens the door to his office and Megumi softly slips inside. Just the same as it always was, peak modern furniture and decor, white and black all around him 

“If now is not a good time -”

“Now is perfect.” Megumi swallows, running his tongue along his lip. The lipstick tastes so bitter, drying his mouth. He needs something to drink, to quench his thirst.

“So…” Gojo calls out casually, making his way to his desk. He drops a script of papers onto it and leans back against the wood with a raised brow. 

“I - Uh - I just wanted to tell you that I practiced the coda last night. And I finished.” Gojo nods at this and gives a tight lipped smile. The Director waits as if expecting more. _Fuck, okay Megumi. Just keep going - Come on do this!_

“I thought you should know…” His voice is so quiet. A howl could be louder than the pathetic drawl that escaped his lips. _God, what is he doing?_ He should have never come. Now he’s embarrassed himself further and Gojo will be -

“Okay Megumi, honestly, I don’t care about your technique.” The older looks up at him. “You should know that by now.”

“Yeah, but yesterday -” Megumi chokes out despite himself. He wants to defend what he believes even if he has to cry in the process.

“No. Anyways, I’ve already chosen Mahito.” Gojo comes forward, gently grasping his jaw before opening the door. His fingertips were so cold against Megumi's flushed skin that the younger held back a gasp at the kind gesture. 

“Okay, sorry…” Megumi mumbles between his teeth making his way to the door. But then the door closes shut and Megumi looks up mouth agape. _What? Jesus, they’re so close._ He doesn’t think he’s ever been so close to the Director before. Gojo is so tall, his skin so fair it almost appears lavender in the rays of sunlight.

“That’s it? You’re not gonna try and change my mind?” Megumi drops his gaze, looking to the floor. _When had he removed his sunglasses?_ Such a bright blue, like the ocean. He can't bring himself to stare for long.

“You must have thought it was possible. Otherwise what are you doing here -” Gojo swallows. “All dolled up?” 

_He noticed? Of course he noticed._ Megumi must look like such a fool in a painted lip like this. It's not like he's ever done this before. What did he think, putting on some - But Gojo had swallowed just now. He seems so intrigued by Megumi. An attention the younger has never received before from the Director. And his lashes are so long, white just like his hair. _God, Gojo is beautiful._

“I came to ask for the part.” Megumi whispers, gaze flickering from Gojo’s broad chest to his eyes again. In charcoal black he only appears paler. Blue eyes stare deeply into Megumi for a moment, the intense pressure pinning him in place. But there’s another thought, a sliver of something he hadn’t realized till now. Megumi doesn’t _want_ to move. 

Gojo huffs out a smirk and walks away. He sits down in his leather chair, in a swift movement crossing his leg over the other. The Director’s legs are so long. No wonder he was such a fine dancer in his day. So limber, Megumi bets if he were to lift his pant leg the swell of muscle would still be there. After all, it wasn't as if Gojo was that much older than himself. 

“Well, the truth is, when I look at you all I see is the White Swan. Yes, you are beautiful, fearful, fragile. Ideal casting. But the Black Swan?” Gojo folds his arms. “It’s a hard fucking job to dance both.”

“I can dance the Black Swan too,” Megumi mumbles out despite the tickle in his throat. His palms are so clammy, his body stiff. He can’t bring himself to do anything beneath this heated gaze.

“Really?” Gojo shakes his head. “In four years, every time you dance, I see you obsess over getting each move exactly right, but I never see you lose yourself. _Ever.”_

Megumi bites his lip, gaze falling to the floor. He knows Gojo is right. Gojo is _always fucking right._

“All the discipline, for what?” Megumi’s brows twitch. It sounds so condescending. So confused as to why Megumi would ever strive for something so - _so useless._ But, it’s not. Deep in his heart Megumi knows what he wants. What he wills into every cell of his being as he practices for hours on end. Megumi ducks his head further in frustration, hair fanning across his eyes. Even with this dream, this passion to achieve it, he cannot look Gojo Satoru in the eye.

“I just - I just want to be perfect.” He whispers into the quiet of the suffocating room.

“You what?” Gojo replies softly.

“I wanna be perfect.” Megumi looks up and Gojo’s breath dances. He looks ready to laugh but he knows it isn’t proper. Instead the older shakes his head.

“Perfection is not just about control. It’s also about letting go.” Gojo stands and makes his way to the door where Megumi never ventured far from. “Surprise yourself, surprise the audience. Transcendence. And very few have it in them.”

“I - Um - I think I do -” Gojo’s cold fingertips raise his head and soft lips clash against his. Megumi’s eyes widen as Gojo’s large hands snake to the back of his neck, keeping him in place. His wet tongue plunges forward and Megumi lets it. He lets his mouth open to be taken whole by the heat of it. The grip on his hair tightens as Megumi closes his eyes, sucking on harder till he can’t control himself. The sudden heat, the way Gojo’s eyes had flickered over him and his lips. He knows how the Director looks at him. This is _exactly_ why he was so confident to come. 

The pleasure of their mouths moving together causes a wave of heat to flow through Megumi's body. He’s never felt this way before. It's intoxicating. And scary. Yet, Megumi longs for more. Megumi wants his stained fingertips to graze Gojo's jaw. Stain him with his touch. Megumi _wants more._ He bites down harshly, without a thought in the world, lost in the sudden heat around him and Gojo flails backward with a groan. 

“You bit me?” Gojo holds his lip, tender skin reddened bloody. “I cannot - I can’t believe you - you bit me?”

“I’m sorry.” Megumi shakes as he steps back. As quickly as it started the fire was put out leaving the younger cold and empty. Gojo looks so shocked with his wide eyes, white lashes fluttering. What _was that? What had just - come over him? Oh, God…_ Megumi stumbles backward and rushes out of the door. 

“Now that fucking hurt -” The door slams shut and Megumi rushes down the hall as quickly as his feet will let him. What _the fuck_ was that? _What had just - What?_

Everyone is on edge. You can feel it on your skin as you pass, the scattered energy wafting off the dancers. But, Megumi can’t really focus. His cold fingertips touch his lip. It was so warm, Gojo’s mouth. Soft like a rose petal or as if rubbing your lips over velvet. He wants to taste him again. Have that wetness against his tongue. Feel his arms around him, firm and strong. The way he smelled - God, Megumi wants to see him again. Do _that_ again.

 _But, why?_ He's never felt like that before in a relationship. Hardly with anyone ever. Has he _ever_ felt like this before? The tingle down his spine, the strange intoxicating warmth. _Don’t think of that now. Besides, you failed. He was disgusted by you._

Megumi looks across the hall, Mahito surrounded by two others. They're sitting as well, stretching, just waiting for the cast to be posted. He’s so long and thin. Sickly pale too with a purple beneath his eye no primer could ever fully hide. Mahito has good enough technique, though when it came to acting it was as if he could shape shift. That would be good despite the twisting of Megumi's stomach. After all, he stormed out of there, so he hadn’t gotten to see the olders rendition of the White Swan. 

Though Mahito would never be Megumi’s choice, he would not question Gojo. Gojo knew what was best for the company. Yet it seems on his mind’s wander, Mahito had caught him staring. His whole face sours as he frowns at the younger. 

“What?” Mahito hisses and Megumi darts his gaze away. 

“Why is he always staring at me?” They whisper faintly to one another, going on more about how strange he acts. It’s on purpose, isn’t it? To get Megumi more on edge. Well, it’s working. _God, why does he have to stare?_ He’s just causing more problems. More annoyances.

“Hey! It’s been posted.” Nabora snipes at them, shutting their traps closed as she walks down the hall. All at once, various dancers who were stretching on the floors stand. 

“Hey, it’s up!” She smiles down at Megumi who nods his head. Nobara is always so nice to him, treating him like a brother ever since she got together with Maki. He doesn’t really know why. They sort of bonded after they went off on Mahito in a cafe all those months ago. And it was really funny after. They’d run out of there in fear Mahito would punch him but it was worth it. Well, besides the slight talking too of course. _Oh God, that was terrible._ In front of the whole company and everything. Megumi couldn’t believe Mahito was such a snitch. _No, no. Be nice Megumi._

“Mahito?” Megumi mumbles and Mahito looks him up and down in disgust. 

“Congratulations.” He continues and somehow, the anger melts in that moment. Mahito looks pleased with himself, shell shocked as he rushes away. He’d given Megumi a slight smile without any hint of malice or teasing. It was the first genuine one ever directed at him. Megumi grabs his bags to exit, his hands prickling with cold nerves. No point staying. Gojo had told him and his sister was probably right. Big Swan here he comes. 

Harsh footsteps echo down the hall, a looming pressure with it that makes every hair on Megumi's neck stand.

“Hey!” A rough voice barks and Megumi turns with raised brows. _What?_ Mahito is there in front of him, frothing, practically foaming at the mouth. _Why is he so angry?_

“Why would you say that?” He spits out and Megumi shakes his head before anything else.

“What?” Megumi holds tighter to his gym bag. _What the hell is he talking about?_

“Hmm? Your idea of some sick joke.” Mahito continues, coming right up to him and staring him down. 

“What?” Megumi asks again, much softer. His voice is absolutely lost in Mahito’s heaving. Calm before a ravaged beast. 

“Fuck you.” The venom chills him as Mahito bumps purposely into Megumi, jogging away. The younger rubs his shoulders with a deep frown. _What the hell is he talking about? He’s the fucking Swan Queen. But then why would he - Why -_

_What?_

In slow steps, he walks forward mechanically to the board where the cast is posted. Everyone is standing there, the majority of the company in big smiles. Megumi slowly enters the crowd and Okkotsu’s excited eyes catch his. He rushes to him and hugs him close. His senior danseur, probably the only other dancer he respects. Though, he's usually abroad with a touring division. _But what? Why is he hugging him? What?_

“Congratulations Fushiguro!” Megumi looks up with wide eyes, his gaze falling to the bolded letters of the Swan Queen. Beneath it, his name in big markings, _Fushiguro Megumi._ Megumi blinks as if to wake up but it doesn't change. In fact, even more people come up to hug him, some girls too. Even Nabora punches him slightly before walking away to join Maki who giggles excitedly.

But he can barely hear anything, move the feet beneath him. His whole body is frozen in shock, ears practically swimming with white noise. With his mouth agape people cheer and clap his back. It’s all swirling around him, faces blurring together. Red eyes catch his amongst the crowd. Ryomen nods in appreciation with shot up brows. There’s even a faint smile on his lips. _What? Wait, holy shit. He’s - How - He’s the -_ Everything, it’s so much. Everywhere, so many - _What? WHAT?_

“Congrats man!” Someone shakes his shoulders. Megumi’s head bobbles as his eyes fog over. A sudden spike of energy courses through his veins.

“You dance so wonderfully, you got this.” Even Inumaki had come up and whispered congratulations. The guy that never talks just congratulated him. Okkotsu's boyfriend just congratulated him. _This - This is real? He’s actually the lead! The lead of the Swan Lake?_

Megumi can’t help himself. After almost all the company came to him he had to rush to the bathroom. It was so much, so many eyes on him, so many voices directed at him. The young man hurriedly enters, closing the stall door behind him. He pulls out his phone and moves without thinking, pointer finger sliding across the glass.

“Hello?” Tsumiki asks.

“Hi.”

“What is it? What’s up?”

“I’m fine - Um -” Megumi swallows, a large grin overtaking him. _Holy shit… I'm the fucking Swan Queen..._

“What?”

“He picked me.” Megumi chuckles out, eyes watering. “Did you hear me? He picked me!”

“For the Swan Lake?” He can hear her laughing too. Tears fall from his lashes. “OH MY GOD!” 

“Well - Um - I’ll be home soon, okay? I just had to tell you.” He wipes his eyes through his trembles.

“I LOVE YOU!”

“I love you too…” He rasps out and shuts off his phone. Megumi wipes the last of his tears and breathes in deeply. _It’s - this is real._ He’s the Swan Queen. 

_Okay, breathe. Just calm down first._

With a breathless chuckle Megumi opens the stall groggily to big red letters across the mirror. _Whore_ painted across it, red lipstick just like the one he stole. Dread fills him from head to toe, and for a moment Megumi can’t bring himself to do anything. Not to move his feet nor expand his chest. He hurriedly trips to the counter and harshly grabs some paper towels, wiping as best he can the sticky markings. It’s so hard to remove, it smudges into itself. Megumi’s eyes water over again as he continues to move his arm.

Megumi breathes in deeply before getting out his keys. They jangle as he twists the door open and let's himself in. _That_ was a long day. Meetings and figuring out which rooms he’ll attend and practice in. Meeting the other castmates. Tsumiki must be bursting at the seams right now. It's not like he isn't, but hopefully, she doesn’t ambush him with confetti. 

“Tsumiki?” Megumi calls out into the quiet space. 

“Tsumiki are you in your room?” He asks as he winds down the halls. It’s so dark in here. Megumi opens Tsumiki’s door and flicks on the light. It’s been a long time since he’s been in here he was slightly hesitant to come inside.

Blue eyes don’t really register anything for a moment, the young man's body so still it’s inhumane. Inside are various portraits of him in the same pose, a bright smile on his lips. Every single one is home made with rough painted strokes, some more demented than others. But, they’re still _him,_ when he was young. Megumi remembers taking the picture with the shoes. His first pair. One of the eyes shift, looking up at him. _What the fuck?_ Megumi blinks and looks back down again. Nothing strange, it just stares at him like all the others. A shudder of piercing cold rips through him. His feet move unconsciously, slowly bringing himself to walk away, shutting off the light and closing the door. 

Megumi can still feel it, _their eyes._

He steps out of the shower, face still flushed from the steam. He blinks at his reflection. At least he has long lashes, almond eyes like his sister. His abs are surprisingly more defined than usual, but that's all. It wasn't like he was freakishly tall, his limbs lanky not limber. Besides every dancer had about the same build but he always managed to look so stiff, so awkward.

Megumi fakes a smile till a laugh bubble through his chest. _He looks so stupid._ His wet black locks stick to his temples and forehead, dripping water across his face. This is the only time his curls ever managed to stay down. 

But, it still makes him uncomfortable. He looks like _him, Fushiguro Toji._ Just the thought sours his mood, makes his shoulders crumble forward. No doubt that fuck is living his life off somewhere without the faintest clue about them. Megumi turns around to stare at his muscles when a flash of red catches his eye. There again on his shoulder blade, blood seeps from a cut. _Shit, what? He doesn’t remember..._

“Megu! Are you home?” Tsumiki calls out, though it’s muffled by the various walls. He rushes to the bathroom door and slides the laundry basket in front of it. Megumi steps back to the mirror and looks again, wiping the slippery substance across his skin, the blood smearing in the cold water. _Damn it. Damn it._

“Well, I’m in the kitchen!” He hears her sing and pale fingertips rubs harder, a shaky exhale leaving his lips. 

“Come on sweetie.” Tsumiki gestures for him to come inside and he does, though wrapped in a robe. Megumi slouches further, his face heating up at how big her smile is. It’s terribly contagious. 

“My little brother’s the Swan Queen!” Tsumiki giggles, stepping away from the counter to show off a grand cake. _Wow, there hasn’t been a cake in their home in years._ Megumi smiles, eyes no doubt crinkling at their edges as he rushes into her arms and lifts her in the air. _He’s done it!_ It’s as if he’s reading the sign again, feeling all the anxious excitement flow through him. They laugh in huffed breaths as they sway along the creaking wooden floors. Megumi sets her down and she rushes to the cake, grabbing a knife.

“It’s our favorite, vanilla with strawberry filling.” She sings as she begins to cut a big piece around a frosted rose. 

“Oh, not too big - No, that’s way too much.” 

“It’s a celebration. Come on, just this once.” She shakes her head, ignoring him. Megumi swallows. 

“Tsumiki, m-my stomach’s still in knots.” Tsumiki looks up at him, her smile falling from her face. As if all of a sudden the room got cold like the wind howling outside. His knees lock in place as the light leaves her eyes.

“Fine. Fine! Then it’s gone.” Tsumiki heaves the cake and makes her way to the trash bin.

“No - No, don’t! I’m sorry.” He fumbles out softly, holding his shaking hands together.

“I’m just, I’m just so proud of you.” Tsumiki sighs out, trying her best to smile. She places the cake down on the counter gently as if she was only moving it. 

“It looks so yummy.” Megumi tries to comfort her. And it works somewhat, some of her spirit returned. She runs her short finger in the frosting, lifting for him. He hesitantly lowers and wraps his mouth around her fingertip. It’s so sweet, he’ll have to work out harder from all the extra calories. He sucks softly and hurriedly ducks his head away. _God this is so embarrassing. He isn’t a little kid._ But, perhaps it’s alright. Tsumiki smiles gently and Megumi forces his lips to copy. 

The music begins and he graces forward, leaping into the air. He lands firmly, the sound of it echoing through the room. His brows worm together as he arches his neck backward, arms around him snaking up and down. _Slower, come on. More graceful._ His pale arms fly toward the sky and lower in ease, his expression full of delicate fear. The swan is meeting the prince for the first time and he’s afraid. Who wouldn’t be if they were almost shot to the ground by a bow and arrow?

Okkotsu comes forward and Megumi falters in his steps, gliding backward on his toes as if to fly away. Prince Siegfried is his senior’s role, a fitting choice. And it's been so long since they've worked together. It makes him so excited. They weave around one another, Okkotsu’s hands wrapping over him like a tornado as he ducks. The music becomes quicker, louder as their huffed breaths weave into one another, never quite catching the other as their legs flit beneath them.

But then, the piano keys melt into a soothing smooth tempo. Their hands, though clammy and covered in perspiration, catch one another in a gentle embrace. Megumi comes forward, closer still as muscles bend. Okkotsu’s face is so close to his he can feel his scant breath across his lips.

“All right! All right. Very nice!” Gojo calls from across the room. Megumi backs away immediately and rushes over to where Gojo is sitting with two other female choreographers. 

“It’s very nice.” Gojo muses and Megumi smiles. _He’s doing this. He’s really here, doing this._

“But, I knew the White Swan wouldn’t be a problem. The real work will be your metamorphosis into the Black Swan.” Gojo stands, voice daunting and piercing. He’s as gentle as always but there’s something else. Something smooth, something hidden behind the deep drawl.

“Okay,” Megumi mutters out weakly, forgetting himself. Never leave the Director waiting. _You can stare later._

“And I know I saw a flash of him yesterday. So, get ready to give me more of that _bite.”_ Gojo smirks as he exits the room. _Oh my God why did he -_ Megumi looks to the floor with wide eyes. His face must be so red. _He's burning up!_

Maki mutters as she moves her hands, down they go and one raises again. Megumi copies till his wrists overlay one another. The Zen'in is a great instructor. He’s been taught by her a few times, though she mainly worked with the leads. Those very slim times she'd taught ensemble were hard but always the most exciting. It was always a class full of laughs despite the way things could get from certain performers ruining moods. Her stern energy only amplified around Nabora. It was almost as bad as Okkotsu and Inumaki but that was a completly different beast.

Overall, he's happy he gets to have her instruction again. They’re practically family, so in a way, it’s almost relaxing despite the huge pressure on his shoulders. They can talk about her relationship in peace without _someone_ butting in and Megumi can complain about certain moves without feeling to bad.

“That’s it...” She whispers as his toes raise. Every gesture she does he copies. Elegant and full of a strong force. 

“That evil force is pulling you, you can’t control it.” Maki hands shake sporadically. “It’s completely out of your control so - So you just - You sense it.” Her hands slowly float like a wave and Megumi copies. 

“You get aware of it more,” Her elbows raise higher. “It’s taking me, it’s taking me. A little bit more desperate.” 

Megumi nods and follows. 

“Right and then maybe you can go up a little bit. Down, that’s it.” 

  
  


Megumi fills up his water bottle, the sound of the piano from the group session and feet hitting the floor muffled by the creak of its heavy doors. Megumi slowly enters the circular hall and his eyes instantly catch sun kissed skin. _Ryomen Sukuna, huh._ Megumi was right, just as magnetic when he dances, if not more. Like a force you can't look away from no matter how hard you try. He’s there beside the rest of the company but Megumi can’t look away. Ryomen has such a big grin on his face as he moves effortlessly about the room, others weaving past to their marks. 

Such big movements, but controlled too. Like he knows what he’s doing and still manages to add a flourish of something Megumi could only hope to achieve. _God, and that leap. It’s fucking perfect._

His neck tingles, a warm presence entering the doors behind him. Megumi looks up to pale supple skin. Gojo watches entranced, glasses low on his nose. 

“Watch the way he moves.” Megumi turns back. Ryomen smiles at Nabora and dashes away. “Imprecise but effortless.” 

And it’s absolutely true. His muscles are riveting as his arms raise again and again. Ryomen spins like a storm taking up as much room as he pleases. And his aura, the air is so captivating Megumi wants to linger on every flick of his wrist. Gojo licks his lips, lowering to Megumi’s neck. Megumi fights to not fidget in place.

“He’s not faking it.” The older rasps and walks away with a silly grin. Megumi’s face feels hot all over again. _What the hell?_ _He totally did that on purpose._ But Megumi can’t think for long, eyes flying back to Ryomen as his tan body stumbles forward slightly. But he doesn’t get angry or frustrated like Megumi would. He laughs wholeheartedly, a few others joining. Ryomen Sukuna is so beautiful, Megumi sinks into himself. He leaves as quickly as he can, trying not to think back to the way Ryomen’s black tattoos sang with each step. The way his sweat glistened. Ryomen is so confident it’s - _comforting._

“You room with Getou now so be considerate.” An awkward man chides. Megumi nods with a faint smile. The older has taken Megumi home a few times before, thoughtful and always considerate of everyone in the company.

“Thanks, Ijichi.” He means it. Truly. The older always works so hard yet he’s so stiff all the time. The anxiousness Megumi understands though. He’s like him, just a tad more obvious.

“Those are for you. From the Director.” Ijichi gestures to the counter. Flowers rest in a vase, a large bouquet of soothing colors, light lavenders and whites. It’s wonderfully made. Gojo’s so thoughtful. Megumi didn’t even think he’d ever get flowers. And the room - Everything has been so thoroughly cleaned it looks brand new. 

“Beautiful.” He chuckles and Ijichi leaves, closing the door behind him. Ijichi's shoulders seem proud, proud of Megumi. The younger bends over to smell the fresh scent of the irises. Getou’s belongings are just beside him as glistening and open for the taking as all of his other belongings.

_So many people, oh Jesus._ Megumi wants to bolt for it but he knows he can’t. Other years, sure. He’d attend as a courtesy, maybe get the guts to congratulate Getou but this year is different. He’s the star, the new lead. 

“I’ll be back in a second!” Gojo calls out into the crowd. As soon as Megumi arrived Gojo grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him along with a sickeningly sweet smile. He’s terribly giddy for such an older gentleman but Megumi doesn't mind. It's needed, the kind welcoming aura to soothe patrons from Megumi's awkwardness.

The consecutive gala. So many faces he doesn’t know, other people in the company blurring into the crowd. With everyone so dressed up he feels even more afraid. Even if he’s wearing a white suit, which he thought was too much, Tsumiki pushed him out the door.

“Here we go!” Gojo sings as he grabs two flutes. Gold and grand they climb up the elegant staircase. He always does his speeches up here. And so confident he is, Megumi can’t bring himself to complain. It's as captivating a sight as dancing. Though Megumi will always love the Directors dancing best.

“Ready to be thrown to the wolves?” The older smiles teasingly. It’s the most relaxed he’s ever seen Gojo, though he never attended these parties long enough to know. Perhaps the older always like this outside of the theater. 

“We need their cash, so please, don’t forget to smile.” Megumi bites his lip and nods softly. His sister had put lip gloss on him, even some shimmery eyeshadow. It tastes so sweet. Gojo’s blue eyes linger on the pink. He can feel it, even if it’s hidden behind black spectacles. 

“Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention?” Gojo calls out in a grand tone and everyone quiets immediately. _Who couldn't?_ He's a master of fine arts.

“Good evening! Let me make this very important announcement.” Gojo takes in a deep breath, letting go of Megumi’s wrist. 

“You all have had the chance to be enchanted, transported, sometimes devastated by the performances of this true artist of our company. He has been an exceptional inspiration to my work, a role model to our dancers and a deeply satisfying presence on our stage.” Gojo speaks so elegantly, like a master storyteller weaving a story. Megumi looks down to his hands, skin peeled slightly at his nail. _When had he - No, focus. You’re beside Gojo. That means people are looking at you too._ His hands shake as he holds tighter to his glass. 

“You all know who I am talking about...Getou Suguru!” Gojo triumphantly extends his hand to the artist, Getou smiling gratefully at the words as everyone claps. “But, as we all know, every great career comes to an end. Suguru is retiring at the end of the season.” 

People murmur about, a few looking to their side to gaze up at Getou. His smile becomes pained but is still there, ever etching into his skin. Megumi feels his own drop as his toes curl. _What was that sudden cold draft just now?_

“He will be giving his farewell performance as Melpomene, the role he originated in my first ballet. My prince, we honor you. You will be greatly missed.” Getou had frowned at the name and made his way through the crowd to the marble archway. _He’s leaving?_ Megumi looks down at Gojo but he isn’t doing anything to stop him. 

“And never forgotten.” Gojo licks his lip slightly. “But, as we bid adieu to one star, we welcome another!” 

Gojo looks up to him and Megumi holds back a gasp. Such a bright blue - _No, focus._ “As you know, we open our season with my new version of Swan Lake. Taking the role of our new Swan Queen is the exquisite Fushiguro Megumi!”

Through the gasps and clapping, Megumi nods his head in a grateful smile. He hopes they know it’s sincere. He’s so thankful for this, truly. As they silence a laugh echoes. Megumi instantly catches the culprit, Ryomen dressed in full black, joking with a patron. He bites his lip and mutters ‘sorry’ to the guests around him. He must have been too enthralled in the conversation he was having to notice. 

“Soon you will have the pleasure of seeing him perform. Tonight we raise a glass. To all of us, to Suguru, to Megumi, to beauty!” They clank their glasses together and Gojo drowns the golden liquid, Megumi’s gaze lingering on the bob of his pale adams apple. Everyone follows through murmurs and delighted laughter. 

Megumi stares at his nail in the bathroom. He’d somehow managed to sneak away from Gojo. It was weird. Not, weird, maybe it’s normal. He's never experienced the gala like this before so that must be why. But, he felt like he was being shown off rather than simple introductions. It must be all in his head. He isn't arm candy by any means. He's just a dancer.

It’s white all around him, opulent in its furniture and decor. Everything is so fancy here, no room untouched from its fine elegance. _Come on, just wash this and go back out there. Stop stalling._ Megumi lets the cold water run across his nail, a harsh knocking on the door making his whole body stiffen.

“Just a second.” He calls out, rubbing his hands through the cold water. He grabs the loose skin and begins to pull. The knocking continues in a maddening beat. Just like his heart, it roars around him and his swimming ears. 

“Just a second!” He groans and rips the skin completely halfway up his finger. His entire body convulses with a shaking gasp. _What the - Wait - Wha -_ He hurriedly rubs his skin, pressing harder into it as the cold liquid overtakes his senses, numbing the piercing ache. His hands move without thinking, rubbing over it manically, wincing in fear to see what he’s done as he turns his hand over. 

But then, there’s _nothing._ Not a single scratch or tear. Megumi dries off his skin slowly, panting to keep at bay the tears that long to fall. _What the fuck…_

“Come on! I’m about to burst!” Megumi hurriedly opens the door and brown eyes meet his. Instantly they light up as if Megumi is the most enthralling thing in the world. 

“Hey, it’s you!” Ryomen chuckles as he closes the door behind him, trapping Megumi inside. He turns back to face the taller excitedly, a bundle of energy in his arms.

“I don’t think we’ve officially met, I’m Sukuna.” The older extends his arm and Megumi takes it. His heart is beating so fast he can hardly hear his words as he replies meekly.

“Hi, I’m Fushiguro.” 

“Yes! Our new Swan Queen. Here, hold this.” He hands Megumi his satchel before Megumi can reply. 

“Yeah, sure.” The paler mutters out, holding the leather tighter as Sukuna undoes his belt, the metal sound clicking around them.

“You must be so excited. Oh, are you freaking out?” Ryomen asks gently, sliding the belt into his bag. His hands are so warm, but not clammy in any means. Even here he alludes confidence.

“Yeah…” Megumi whispers shyly. Something about his smile makes Megumi want to smile too. He looks so happy for him. Genuinely. Megumi blinks as Ryomen’s gaze softens. He must have gotten the shorter all wrong. He seems like he’s actually a decent guy, just more intimidating than most.

“Yeah? Aw, it’s okay. I’d be losing my mind.” Ryomen chuckles as he washes his hands. More rings adorn them today. And with his rolled up sleeves, he seems so much wider. The veins that run along his forearms make Megumi’s head spin. _Shit, shit. Stop staring! Don’t embarrass yourself, please!_

“Well - I should get back -” Megumi swallows. No tie either, just a line of tan skin as if he couldn’t button his shirt all the way. And it seems so much more apparent now, the way his chest seems to stretch the fabric and buttons more than it can take. Ryomen isn’t at all bothered by his flightiness, calm as he turns around and dries his hands.

“No! No, no. Come on, stay. Keep me company.” Ryomen drawls out, hoisting himself up on the counter. The tan man seems so playful. Fun to hang out with but Megumi can’t. The longer he stays - He doesn’t know what will become of him. 

“Excuse me,” Megumi bows and leaves the room. His face, _oh my God. He’s so red - He’s so red._ A sudden voice calls out to him and the younger's whole body freezes over.

“There you are, come on!” Gojo grabs his hand and gently guides him through the crowd. The taller’s hands are so freezing against Megumi’s flushed skin.

The young dancer nods gently to a passing guest. _Finally, he gets to go home._ That felt like an eternity, longer than any evening he's had in a while. Megumi can’t wait to just fall back on his bed and stay there beneath his covers.

“Hey! They tried to eat you alive but here you are. You did well.” Gojo muses and Megumi looks back. He’d rushed into the hall to get Megumi’s coat. With swift movements those large pale hands help slip on Megumi’s beige coat. 

“Really?” Megumi winces. _He did alright?_ He thought he was floundering too much but for some reason people were ‘enchanted,’ as Gojo put it. Seems being shy could have it’s perks if in the right company. 

“Mhmm. Where are you going?” Gojo sings as he tilts his head, sliding his hands in his pockets.

“Upper west side.”

“Stop by my place for drinks on the way.” Gojo’s voice can go so deep. _Wait - What?_ Megumi licks his lips before he can so much as reply. Thankfully a voice interrupts them so the younger's head can spin further.

“Gojo!” Ijichi calls out. The pair turn back to the hall, Megumi wide eyes while Gojo remains casual. “You need to say hello to Yaga Masamichi.” 

“Ah shit. A minute more of this and I’ll be right back. Wait for me, all right?" Gojo jogs away with a sly grin, winking playfully as if to make Megumi's heart plummet further. 

"Hello!” Gojo sings in the distance. _Oh my God, shit - Shit! What should he do?_ Instead to distract himself, mostly calm his ever beating heart, Megumi looks up at the statue in front of him. It's an elegant lithe body, no arms, only wings that extend from their back like an angel. It’s beautiful, sculpted so masterfully, though winded from the outside it stands proudly. It's face is haunting, inhumane like, with black sockets for eyes as if carved by a shaking rough hand. His eyes linger till a sudden pressure ignites at his side, telling his entire body to run. Megumi turns slightly, eyes widening to see Getou Suguru’s blank eyes staring back at him. In all his glory Megumi is snuffed out completely.

“Ah! Getou - Sorry.” Megumi steps back. Getou smiles, a glass in hand. He seems thoroughly wasted by the glaze in his eye. But of course, even now in such a state, he can have a steady conversation.

“I’m so sorry to hear you’re leaving the company.” Megumi tries again. He doesn’t know when he’ll get to say it, Getou is his role model after all. But Getou’s eyes shrink and Megumi straightens. That _definitely_ wasn’t the right time to say that. _God, why did you do that? You saw how uncomfortable he was earlier._

“Awe.” Getou breathes into the air between them. Megumi swallows and tries his best to not look away.

“What did you do to get this role?” It’s agonizing, the same way nails on a chalkboard sound when it’s scratched. But somehow, Megumi's face stays still. To feign confusion he shakes his head. _How did he find out? Oh, God, is he that obvious?_ Getou continues with quiet frustration.

“He always said you were a frigid little boy. What did _you_ _do_ to make him change his mind?” The older slurs out but it prickles against Megumi’s skin. He knows he shouldn't listen to the drunkard but it hurts. It stabs at his heart, Getou’s unafraid words worm into him. His respected seniors smile turns bitter. 

“Did you suck his cock?” 

“Not all of us have to.” Megumi enunciates and Getou’s eyes widen. He hadn’t expected that, neither had Megumi. It just came out like when someone hits you, you hit back. Megumi hasn't done that in a long time. Getou chuckles out deeply, swinging his head around.

“You fucking _whore._ ” Megumi looks to the floor, shuffling in place. His eyes hurt so much, begging him to cry. To release this agonizing pressure. What has happened to this man he used to admire so much? If he stays here any longer -

"You’re a _fucking little whore!”_ Getou spits at him and Megumi flinches.

“Woah, woah! What’s going on here?” Gojo’s voice echoes through the empty hall. He rushes close as Getou walks backward. 

“Hey, hey! I need to talk to you -”

“Okay, Suguru."

“I need to talk to you!” Getou snipes and Gojo runs his hands across the shorter's arms.

“You need to go home.” Even here with a groveling man Gojo can make himself the saint.

“No! Don’t you do that. Don’t you _\- dismiss me_ like that -”

“Suguru, my prince, _please._ Pull it together.” Gojo softly eases off the other. His voice was so gentle Megumi couldn't look anymore. They were lovers once. That's a definite fact. _He should have known._ Why else was Getou so bitter? How else could Getou have stayed for so long as the lead? Suddenly a hand brushes against his and Megumi fights not to wince. Gojo’s hands are always freezing. Megumi shivers as a slice of wind blows through their hair, blurring his view further.

“Come on,” Gojo mutters between them and Megumi slowly nods. He’s trying his best to keep his tears at bay. Gojo seems to notice his discomfort, a soothing thumb gliding over his hand. He smiles softly at Megumi for once and the younger's chest lessens in its tight grip. 

“I’m coming by later! I have something for you - A token of my appreciation!” Getou yells as they leave. He’s so angry, _so bitter._ It makes Megumi sink closer to Gojo’s side despite knowing he shouldn't.

“Right,” Gojo calls back, feining boredom. Megumi tries to look up at him but he can't see his eyes. They're darkened by shadows.

“You make the most of it Fushiguro!” Megumi looks back curtly with wide eyes to the sight of Getou drowning his glass. The older's hand tightens around his. Megumi looks down and places his other hand over it. Gojo is trembling. _He must have loved him, so very much._

The windows of Gojo’s flat are huge. They overlook a good portion of the city, a grand piano in the corner of the room. After all, it wasn't like Megumi could leave Gojo like that. Despite the confident smiles, it was the first time he's ever seen the older unravel, even if only for a moment. Seemingly unable to be in control of the situation was something Megumi didn't know Gojo could do. _He's human, just like you._

In a sense, the space is comforting. It’s the same as Gojo's office, black and white. Though minimal in decor it’s still elegant and modern. Megumi can ignore his dread if his presence can comfort the older. He doesn't know what will happen here.

“Come, take a seat.” Gojo sings as he weaves them across his living room. He's been like this ever since they got in the car, joking and whatnot as if to distract the younger. They sit across from each other on the leather chairs, firm beneath him Megumi plants his feet on the floor. He hadn't realized how tired he was till now.

“I thought it’d be good to talk about the role. Ground us a little.”

“Yeah.” Megumi nods, fighting to keep his eyes open. It’s weird to do this after a gala. Talk about the role? _Now?_ Maybe Gojo needs the distraction? It's selfish to leave after the whole trip, even if Megumi wants nothing more than to go home and take a shower. But, surely spending some time wouldn’t hurt. Anything to improve his performance is vital. And he's alone with Gojo. _Truly alone..._

“I don’t want there to be any boundaries between us,” Gojo’s face scrunches and Megumi nods his head. He agrees. The Director’s vision is a personal one and Megumi would hate to disappoint him.

“No, me neither.” He nods again, softer after finding the words to reply. _Don't freak out. You're fine._

“Good. So, you have a girlfriend, boyfriend?” Gojo asks suddenly but it's so casual, as if talking about the weather, Megumi's brain can't compute. Still, the younger's lips twitch, fighting to keep his eyes from widening. _What? Why would he need to know that?_

“No,” Megumi whispers, his polite smile faltering. Gojo’s eyes are piercing, white lashes fluttering behind black rims.

“And you had many? In the past?” _Is he being serious? Does Megumi look like that kind of person? Stop freaking out - Just answer his question!_

“No, a few. But -" Megumi swallows. “No one serious.” 

“You’re not a virgin, are you?” Gojo teases, the serious air gone for something else. Megumi shakes his head slowly, his smile leaving his face. _God, his heart is beating so loudly._

“No.” Megumi is so shocked his voice didn’t crack he is left to reach for the glass of water beside him. _Just drink the water. Drink the water._

“Well, then there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Gojo sings, taking a sip of his drink. _How can he be so casual about this?_ _Why does he have to ask these questions?_ Megumi looks away and coughs to soothe his awkwardness. How can he be so relaxed as Megumi sits a seat away completely still? 

“And, you enjoy making love?” Megumi’s tongue goes stiff as he lowers his glass. _What is with all these questions?_ His stomach can't handle much more.

“Excuse me?” He chuckles out to ease his drumming heart but Gojo is not laughing. He’s absolutely serious as he removes his sunglasses.

“Oh, come on. Sex. Do you enjoy it?” Gojo enunciates and Megumi scoffs. So vulgar. He can't talk about this sort of thing with his Director. _He's your director, Megumi. A part of a pair you've admired for so long. You can't do this._

“Well, we need to be able to talk about this.” Gojo continues and Megumi loses his proud air. He nods in utter quiet shame. _How does this have anything to do with the performance?_

“I have a little homework assignment for you.” That gets Megumi's attention easily. Finally, something that makes sense. It's probably to work more on his fouettes though he doesn't need to be reminded. Gojo's eyes are lit up too, no tinted glass to hide them. 

“Go home and _touch yourself.”_ Megumi freezes at the deep drawl. The young man’s gaze falters and Gojo chuckles. _What? Did he hear that correctly?_

“Live a little.” Gojo chides and reaches over, shaking his knee. “Well, it’s late. Lot’s of work tomorrow. The doorman will find a cab for you.”

Gojo waltzes to the door and playfully turns as if he hadn't said such a thing. _That's it? What, were you expecting more? Did you want more? But he's your director. You said yourself his 'vision' is everything._ If that's his homework assignment then - Megumi swallows and roughly stands up. He bows and makes his way out the door with his heart a pounding mess. 

“Sounds like quite an evening, wish I could have been there.” Tsumiki chuckles as she walks into his bedroom. Megumi has undone his tie and suit jacket, shoes, and socks tossed aside. 

“You know I asked...” He mumbles through his teeth as he undoes his belt. He really did. Why she would want to go to an event like that is beyond him. Especially when you could just stay home.

“I know you did, Shoko told me. Guess Gojo wanted you all to himself.” She hits his shoulder playfully and Megumi rolls his eyes.

“That’s not why.” _Why would she say that?_

“I don’t blame him,” Tsumiki whispers, hands flying up to pat his head. It’s still gelled from the hair concrete he used, so her fingers feel stiff against him. He hardly does it like this and she told him not to, but it’s embarrassing. Having such curly hair as this, it has to be tamed. Her fingers linger on his scalp till the tips of her cold hands reach the shell of his ear. 

“Where’d you get these?” She murmurs, eyes lingering on the glimmer of jewelry. Megumi swallows, playing with the leather in his hands. _They were a gift from Gojo._ Beside the flowers he’d received, a pair of diamonds waited. He slipped them on when he got to the Gala so Tsumiki wouldn’t see but he’d forgotten all about them. At least Gojo was over the moon to see him wear them. 

“They’re fake,” Megumi mumbles with a pout.

“Could have fooled me.” The smaller scoffs as she removes them from his ears. At that, she hurries to his dresser before rushing back to him.

“I can do it -” Megumi swats her hands away but she’s persistent as always.

“He must have been by your side all night.” Tsumiki sings as she unbuttons his dress shirt. It falls to the floor and he grumbles, slipping off his undershirt and turning away to gather his clothes. Tsumiki stills rigid in the corner of his eye and he straightens unconsciously.

“Oh, Megu -” A stern voice leaves her lips and Megumi’s eyes widen. _Shit._ He quickly turns his back away from her, keeping his cotton shirt up like a shield. 

“No - No, it’s just a rash.” The younger tries to reason but Tsumiki follows, grabbing his arm and keeping him in place. The bleeding cut has worsened across his shoulder blade, tender and pink. 

“What are you talking about -” She gasps as her hands touch around the roughed skin. Megumi winces, holding back a groan.

“It’s from a few days ago. It’s fine.” He huffs but Tsumiki refuses to back down, pulling him closer. 

“God - You’ve been scratching yourself again!” The older's grip tightens around his arm and his breath stutters. Megumi is unable to meet her fiery gaze. 

“No, I haven’t!” He tries again but it’s caught in his throat as she undoes his slacks and unzips them abruptly, pushing them to his ankles. “Tsumiki -”

“I thought you’d grown out of this _disgusting_ habit.” She huffs as she yanks him out of his room. He stumbles in her hold as her fierce steps echo down the hall to the bathroom. 

“Jesus Christ - I thought you were done with this Megumi. You’ll keep wearing your cardigan.”

“I have been -” He’s pushed onto the bathtub rim and he sits, knees shaking. _Shit. Shit. Breathe Megumi. Just breathe._ His heart beats faster along his ribs.

“You have the white one and the gray one. And that will hide it.” Tsumiki fumbles through the drawers till she finds what she’s looking for and grabs his hands. “A-And then I’ll dig out that sweater. The expensive one.”

“Tsumiki, please!” She ignores his pleas as she cuts away at his nails one by one. Brown eyes look up at him, heat emitting and scorching.

“It’s the role isn’t it? It’s all this pressure!” Rough hands cut down harder. “I knew it. I knew it’d be too much. I knew it.” 

A piece of the scissor cuts at his fingertip and Megumi gasps, body winding into itself. Tsumiki's eyes immediately soften, lifting his hand to her lips. Kisses run along his knuckles, shushing him and his trembling. All he can do is breathe as the soft bulbs of skin rub against him. 

“Are you alright?” Tsumiki mumbles into his skin, kissing softer as her other hand rubs along his wrist. “It’ll be alright, it’ll be alright..." 

Megumi opens his eyes to the morning sun. He’s still groggy, face slack as he stares at his ceiling. A thought slips through his mind as he wanders through consciousness. 

_Touch yourself._

_Gojo had said it so, so…_ Megumi shakes his head, squinting his eyes to focus. _Should he really? Can’t he just fake it?_

_But it’s been so long, don’t you want to remember what it feels like?_

Shakily, his hand goes under the thick covers. He frowns, shivering as his cold hand slips beneath his boxer band. It’s warm, soft. He isn’t aroused by the slightest as weed like thoughts begin to stir. Slowly, his long fingers wrap around his member. Just like ice, just like Gojo’s fingertips. A stir of heat flutters through his stomach. _Just move it and be done with it._ But then another crosses his mind. Gojo’s lips. They taunt him so. The way his white hair fanned across his face at the request. The assignment. 

_Touch yourself, come now. Live a little._

So Megumi does, though hesitant. His wrist is uncertain as it flicks up and down. The younger feels guilt well up in his chest. But then, his sea of worries begin to dissipate, another climbing out of the fog. Ryomen’s smile. The way his lips stretched to show sharp white. He’s casual. Relaxed. He alludes - sex. 

Megumi grips a little tighter, his frown slipping as his mouth opens slightly. _I_ _t’s beginning to feel -_ His abs tighten as a soft sigh escapes his lips. His eyes droop open and flutter shut, the feeling in his stomach building. It’s warmer now, hotter as his thoughts drift to sunkissed muscle. Ryomen’s shoulders, the dip of muscles as he raised his arms. Gojo’s smirk, directed at him and him alone. He hardly ever gets attention like that. And _he likes it. He longs for more. More, more, more._

Megumi’s legs begin to twitch, his cover moving with his raising knees as his other hand slips under. He gasps as his cold fingertip rubs his nipple in circular motions. Megumi’s cock is throbbing now as his neck arches, a stuttered breath leaving his lips as his hips raise. He’s fucking himself into his fist. _Oh, fuck. Shit. How can it be so hot beneath these covers?_ Megumi bites harshly to his lips to quiet himself as his pace quickens unruly fast. His mind is an utter blank, completely sunken in pleasure as his thumb rubs over his slit. Precome and sweat combine, his legs trembling as he continues to thrust into his bony fingers. ‘T _hat’s it slut, faster.’ Gojo whispers._ The heat is so intense his mouth opens, eyes closing shut as his body writhes. _‘So good for me. That’s it.’ Who's voice - Ryomen?_ Megumi’s neck arches back into his pillow, holding back a whine as his nail rubs over the nub of his nipple. He hazily opens his eyes to a figure. Megumi stiffens, retracting into himself with a shaking gasp at the loss of friction. Tsumiki rests, asleep on a chair beside him. _Oh… God…_ What _has he done? Fuck. Fuck!_

“Grand jete, grand jete," Maki calls out to the dancers in front of her. Megumi observes them, waiting for his turn to go as they continue to leap across the floor. As they exit and rejoin their groups he catches brown eyes staring at him. _Why is he staring at him?_ Ryomen looks away instantly and Megumi tries not to dawdle on his broad figure. _You were thinking about that when - Shut up it’s my turn now._ Megumi raises his arms and rolls back his neck with his group as they leap twice across the flooring. The sounds of their wooden shoes combine with the music and hushed voices. As Megumi slows down a figure emerges from the doors with a harsh creak of metal. It’s Miss Amanai in tears as she rushes to Maki’s side. The next group goes, slightly confused, but music pours on into the grand room. She’s good friends with Gojo and Getou, a respected soloist among all the students. _Why is she crying?_ Everyone watches somewhat in the corner of their eyes as she huffs words into the crowded room. 

“What happened?” Maki mutters, grabbing her shoulder. Nabora jogs toward them. 

“Getou’s in the hospital!” Amanai sobs out, wiping her tears. The young woman's bangs are an utter mess, her braid barely hanging together. She must have been running the whole way here when she found out the news. 

“He had an accident -” She crumbles into the tallers hold and Maki’s eyes gloss over. Nabora holds her girlfriend, rubbing her shoulders gently, equally mortified. Megumi swears he hears a faint ‘oh no’ fall from her lips. Nanami stops the music and slowly people come over, some more urgent than others. Mumbling spreads like wildfire, a few students hugging Amanai who sobs louder. Megumi cannot move. 

“What happened?” Megumi asks as a police siren echoes down the street. So faint it was compared to the rapid beating of his heart. He still can’t wrap his head around it. _This can’t be real… How could this have happened?_ Getou doesn’t deserve this. He may have been acting strange but he’s a good man. A talented artist. This couldn’t have happened to someone so, _so great._

“He walked into the street and got hit by a car.” Gojo's reply is casual and Megumi frowns in worry, biting his reddened lips. The cold nips at the tip of his nose, the fountain behind them sprinkling across his hair. There’s so many things happening around him, bustle, students laughing. But Megumi can’t feel it. He can’t feel anything but the cold winter air.

“You know what - I’m almost sure he did it on purpose.” 

“How do you know?” Megumi murmurs, his eyebrows digging further together as he looks up at the older. _Isn’t he the least bit concerned? What the hell is wrong with him? He was your lover once._

“Because that’s how Getou is. Because everything Getou ever does comes from within - From some dark impulse. I guess that’s what makes him so thrilling to watch. So dangerous.” Gojo swallows. Megumi can’t see his eyes, covered again with those deep raven black shades.

“Even perfect at times.” Gojo chokes out, looking at Megumi for a moment before darting his gaze to the floor. Megumi almost misses the hushed voice that follows after. “But also so damn destructive.”

“Was - Was it right after we saw him?” Megumi can’t help but ask after a beat, no matter how pathetic his voice is. Gojo immediately melts into him, holding him sternly.

“Oh, no. Wait - Wait, wait. This has nothing to do with you.” Gojo sighs softly as his hands lift Megumi’s jaw upward. “It’s not your problem so don’t let yourself get distracted. This is _your moment,_ Megumi.”

Megumi nods quickly, eyes darting away. _How can this be real?_ Getou’s really in a hospital right now. In critical condition. It must have been right after, why else would he have done it? 

“Don’t let it go.” Gojo finishes, dropping his hands. Megumi wants to be soothing, make it seem like he understands this but he can’t. All he can do is nod his head and hold back his tears. His chest feels so tight. The younger misses how Gojo’s eyes linger on him.

Megumi removes his diamond earrings. It isn’t right to wear such a thing, a gift from a partner past. The hospital isn’t bustling, but there’s still the ringing of phones and hushed voices. _Come on, just step inside._ The window is tainted black, in the door ahead of him Getou’s figure lies across a hospital bed. _Oh, god. Oh, god. Why can’t he move? It’s just one step more. Grab the handle and turn it. Go inside._ Megumi takes in a big shaky inhale as he forces himself inside. 

There are flowers everywhere, a balloon or two. Megumi forces himself to stop at a table and put the vase of a small bouquet he brought. _Breathe, Megumi breathe._ Hesitantly, the younger turns to face the fallen man. He’s so pale, so sickly his cheekbones protrude. _He looks dead._ A shaking hand moves without thought, lifting the sheet of the bed. The once firm muscle of Getou’s leg stays together by a mechanical metal brace. Megumi’s eyes widen as his fingers tremble, gripping tighter to the cold fabric. Further along it, a mangled scar rests all across the long of his calf. Ripped as if bursting open with bodily liquids black nylon threads are the only thing keeping the skin in place. It's so bloody, so wide Megumi can see muscle - _No, stop looking. Get away from here! Now!_ Megumi heaves, stumbling backward. He runs into something hard, stable, a person perhaps? He whips his head around, a woman frowning up at him. 

“What are you doing?” The nurse bites out and his feet move without thinking, rushing him out of the room before the bile can come. 

Megumi throws the plastic bag in the trash chute, wooden debris beside him. He grabs a rod in curiosity, taking it with him and hiding it in the sleeve of his robe. Perhaps this can be a - _Shit. Tsumiki’s home._ Megumi breathes out as he softly closes the door behind him. Not a single sound through the space, only soft pads of muffled footsteps from his socks. The young dancer weaves down the hall, holding his breath as he looks into Tsumiki’s room from a distance. She’s sitting with her back facing him as she paints on another canvas. Another picture of him as a child, smiling brightly. 

Megumi’s lithe body rushes into his room, bending down to have the rod rest on the floor. He tries to open his door but it can't. A grin slips across his face. _It works._ He tries to tug harder but the door rests on the wood, stuck and unable to move any further. But then, he tugs to harshly, the metal creaking. The sound rips through the hall and Megumi tenses at the sudden noise. 

“Megu?” Tsumiki calls from her room. Her faint footsteps pater quickly. “You’re back?” 

He throws the rod beneath his bed and slips under his covers. The door opens to her smiling, ever gracious face. 

Aoi Todo plays Rothbart. Megumi isn’t necessarily light, especially with all the added protein he should have been eating. But Todo’s a decent choice and hell, he’s doing better than him right now. The air around Megumi is harsh, unforgiving as it slides against his skin. Megumi’s shirt sticks to him as he takes another deep breath, leaping away from the large man's grasp. 

“And.” Gojo swings his hands, following to the beat of the music. Todo spins him, Megumi's pointe shoe gliding with the movement. 

“Come on. Forget about control, Fusiguro. I want to see passion!” Gojo yells as his figure ever looms behind them. Their bodies waltz across the room. Megumi breathes in harder, trying to let his arms loosen. They don’t, staying firm as sweat slides down.

“Come on, reach!” Gojo’s voice grips at his sternum, his hands flying in the air as Megumi is lifted. “More! You’re stiff. Stiff like a dead corpse! Let it go. Let it go!” 

Megumi bites his lip, trying to whip his head seductively but it comes out awkward, the curtness like a birds. Lanky arms falter as Todo stares intensely at them, thick fingers sliding down him. Megumi reaches, extends further but it isn’t enough. He’s not graceful, nor is he passionate. He’s merely emulating what he has been all this time, nothing notable. Just running through the moves and that was all. Todo’s frustration has been building this entire time. So has Gojo’s, who moves his hands in tandem with the younger. _God, how many times have they run through this? Why can’t he do this?_

_But perfection._

Megumi, you _must_ be perfect. 

Megumi is lifted again and lowered curtly, the large hand on his tightening. Todo whips him around and Megumi fights to keep his eyes open, leg trembling as it holds his weight as he spins. 

“Let it go. And again...” Gojo’s hands wave around to imitate the swans movements. Todo pulls him harder to his chest and Megumi’s frown furrows. _God damn it! Come one Megumi just -_

“Feels like you have - uh - your diaphragm.” Megumi has lost count of how many times he's come into Ieiri Shoko's office. For one, a friend of Tsumiki's but that doesn't equate to why he's visited her. She's the theaters physical therapist after all. Has been for years, checkups mandatory for all the dancers. Her fingers go beneath his ribs, pushing there beneath them and inside, her other hand holding him in place. 

“You can get contractions.” She mutters matter of factly. The first kind voice today. So soft without meaning to be it makes Megumi want to cry if not for the fact he’s so tired. He can barely lift his arm, his chest empty. Nothing is there for him to let out. He’s been beaten down thoroughly and only more awaits if he can’t do this. The pressure all around him is so great he can’t even feel it. It’s been wallowed out of him. 

“Okay.” He whispers as she continues to push down softly into the underside of his rib. Megumi groans, brows furrowing. “Alright and why don’t you breathe into this hand.”

Megumi takes a slow deep breath in. The last straw was with Zen’in. Or well, Maki. She had looked so disappointed for a moment as Megumi did his number. Every time his gaze caught her expression the more solemn she became. Perhaps a prickle of guilt will shower him. Later, not now. Not when he can barely open his eyes.

“Breath into this hand, breathe in, breathe in,” Ieiri says softly as she holds firm against his rib, the other hands fingers pushing deeper into the space between his bones. 

“All the way - Good. And exhale.” Slow exhale. _Thank God you can at least do this._ _Ignore the pain. Relish it. At least it stays with you when all has crumbled._ Megumi's chest falls, her hand pushing his ribs toward his middle. 

“Does it feel jammed in the front every time you plie?” Her hands are holding his leg up as he lays face down. She pushes methodically down on the front of his foot, the other holding the front, examining the muscle.

“Sometimes, not always.” Megumi winces as she continues to move, gripping tighter to the pillow as bones crack. 

She massages his feet and all the pent up air escapes him. It hurts so much. Every muckle, tendon, every joint. He works and works but it isn’t enough. It’s never _enough._ Everyone is unimpressed. Every lead, every dancer is caught up to the vision Gojo has masterfully laid out. All except for _him._ Gojo had left so frustrated today he couldn’t even fake a smile or look him in the eye. Even Okkotsu groaned for a moment as they went again. 

“One more pull, okay?”

“Okay.” Ieiri’s methodical hand works up the center of his foot and holds it. She pulls back swiftly, his leg moving with it. A pop echoes through the room and his body sinks into the firm pad beneath him. Megumi bites his lip, closing his eyes in the throbbing pain.

“Was that okay?” He can only nod. _Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry._

Gojo sits in front of the mirrored wall, Megumi chasing after Okkotsu. Todo is behind weaving his arms upward as if controlling him like a puppet and Megumi extends his arm forward, eyes wide as if failing to grasp Okkotsu. This is the Black Swan and Prince Siegfried’s Pas De Deux from Act 3. A scene so vital to the plot, and so very difficult for Megumi to grasp. To express.

Gojo shakes his head and sighs, the quiet of the swift breath igniting through Megumi’s legs. Megumi leaps into Todo’s embrace and strong tan hands hoist him upward, muscles shaking from overuse. They can’t do this for much longer. Todo might actually drop him. Gojo raises his hand, Nanami’s fingers slowing as music stops pouring from his fingertips. When it fully stops Megumi is set down. 

“Todo, can I ask you a question?” Gojo is so serious, his aura, a menacing force. Todo nods, breathless as he wipes his mouth. “Honestly, would you fuck that boy?”

Todo scoffs at the question and Megumi looks to the floor. He isn’t answering. Megumi doesn’t know why. There’s no point lying. He could _at least_ say no. 

The silence continues.

“No.” Gojo shakes his head after a beat. “No one would.” 

Megumi’s brows twitch as he fights with everything in him not to flinch at the words. Scorching heat seethes and wraps around him. His body is aching so much. So, so much. And everyone else must be so tired. Barely able to lift their arms but Gojo demands what is expected. The Director stands gracefully and walks in calm calculated steps. It's like he's gonna _hit him._ Megumi winces, his pointe shoe sliding back.

“Megumi. Your dancing is just as frigid -” The lights go off. “Fuck!” Gojo groans into the space. He felt a swift pass of air behind him. Okkotsu had flinched just now. 

“Oy! We’re still working here! Turn on the lights!” Gojo calls into the hall and claps his hands together harshly. The lights flash on and Megumi bites his lip. Gojo walks back with his head raised high, peering below to Megumi like scum. 

“Okay, guys, you can go. Thank you for your patience.” The Director sighs after a beat and Okkotsu stands up slowly from his bent position. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, Todo's too as they swiftly make their way to their bags. Megumi begins to follow.

“No, no, no. You stay.” Gojo chuckles as if amused Megumi thought he could go. Megumi swallows, his nails digging bloody crescents into his palms. The young dancer is so tired. A bow string can only go so far before it breaks. And Gojo is exhausted too, so frustrated the frown in his skin aches to soften. Gojo gestures for him to come more forward and Megumi stiffly complies. 

“Have fun you two.” Okkotsu smiles as he grabs his bag and fastens it over him. Megumi had forgotten their existence entirely in these moments beneath blue. Gojo sticks out his tongue at this and Nanami gathers his sheet music. All of them leave, the door shutting loudly behind them.

“Okay, come here. Come, come, come.” Gojo whispers, rubbing his temples. Megumi walks forward and Gojo softly grabs his wrist. Megumi stiffens ready to rip his hand away, but, he doesn’t. There’s no malice, no feeling in his gut to run. Gojo removes his glasses and blinks as if adjusting to the light. Megumi breathes slightly easier. The older seems more relaxed now that it's just the two of them. And Gojo won’t tug on him like Todo does. Gojo is so gentle it’s as if he’s holding a wilting flower in his powerful fingertips.

“I’ll be the prince.” The older whispers, frown gone for quiet calm. Their hands rest at the positions and Gojo begins to hum the tune. Megumi turns gently, Gojo’s pale hands lifting him in the air. The grip below his ribs is firm, keeping him in place before lowering him. No strain, just simple strength that makes Megumi’s heart quicken. As their hands lower, they do not touch, though Megumi’s arms ache to. They’re shaking from overuse but Megumi continues, lifting and gliding around the taller. Slowly the milk white hand wraps around him, the older’s broad chest flush against his back. Megumi looks up, mouth agape before fluttering away. Gojo follows after. 

“Let it go, let it go…” Gojo murmurs out as Megumi leans backward. Gojo's hands hold his back as the younger dips. When he rises, though breathless, Megumi's feet know what happens next and he spins away. Megumi’s waits, hand extended as Gojo reaches for it. Soft fingertips grasp his palm, lifting ever so gently so his lips can grace it. As if it’s all he wants in the world. But just before Gojo can, Megumi snatches it away gently with wide eyes. _What is this? This warmth?_

Megumi lifts himself backward until the older wraps around him, lifted again in this swirl of hushed breaths. The long shaking legs alternate in their bend and for a moment, he is _weightless._ Megumi turns, lifting to his toes as they wind their way around one another, gazes never leaving. As the younger falls into Gojo’s embrace and is set down, Gojo’s hand on his waist following the small of his back till they grasp the underside of the younger's thigh. Megumi holds back a gasp at the gentle squeeze of tender muscle. He aches so very much.

“Feel my touch. Respond to it.” _Has Gojo ever spoken so softly?_ Megumi’s heart beats louder, pale neck arching into the olders. His hair smoothes over Gojo’s collared shirt, sticking to it. He’s so close, without the shield of blacked glass. Gojo’s eyes flicker over him and Megumi licks his lips. They’re so close to one another it’s as if he will sink into him and become one. But Gojo's eyes tell a different tale. One where Megumi will be ravaged. Eaten whole. _No, you shouldn't do this. He’s your Director! Getou's - Megumi_ pushes him away but Gojo only replies with a frown, gripping at his wrists and keeping him in place. 

At his gasp Megumi shuts his lips tightly, the older plunging forward. Soft lips move against him. _You can't do this! You can't be used!_ Megumi tries his best to arch away. 

“Open your mouth.” Gojo drawls. 

“Open it. Open it.” The older sighs, white lashes drooping. How gruff, _so deep._ It’s so raspy Megumi’s brain fogs over with a sickening sweet heat. 

_Listen to him._

_Feel this, feel everything. Didn't you want this?_

_But he's so afraid._ Gojo is a beast before him, hungry and thirsting for everything Megumi is. _Just let this happen._ The younger pliantly obeys through his trembling and Gojo slides his tongue inside. Their lips wrap around one another, Megumi sucking lightly on the older's tongue as his neck arches further. Gojo’s heated breaths dance across him and Megumi sharply inhales, diving back into the wet. _It’s hot, so very hot. When had it gotten so hot?_ The white of his shirt becomes sticky, begging to be removed. His back arches as Gojo sucks harder, a groan escaping his lip. Their pink lips turn red, pulsing as breathes of air exchanged. 

The older’s whole hand slips inside Megumi’s loose shirt, sliding up the chisel of abs before catching Megumi’s tan nipple. Gojo’s smooth fingertips are so cold it’s all Megumi feels, writhing back to breathe. Gojo’s lips follow after him and Megumi’s grip on Gojo’s soft hair tightens. His hair is so soft. Gojo’s other hand traces along his side before slipping beneath the younger’s sweatpants. Megumi stiffens and tries to push away but then Gojo grips his member and Megumi chokes. _Oh, fuck._ His cock already half hard, pulsing in nimble white fingers. The younger whines as Gojo bites softly at his bottom lip, tugging backward. The swift hand palms the younger till cold fingertips worm through the elastic band and hip bone. _Go more, I beg of you. I want to drown in this heat._ Megumi shudders, opening his mouth wider for Gojo to take him whole. Gojo moans softly through the wet sounds till suddenly, the cold is gone. The older backs away from him, Megumi left dazed and blinking as his chest heaves. 

“That was me seducing you but it needs to be the other way around.” Gojo rasps out and Megumi’s fists tighten, lips twitching open.

“Please -” He calls but Gojo walks away, never turning back to him. Megumi looks back to his reflection, wide eyes meeting his. His black hair is even more ascue than usual, sticking upward where he had been rubbing along Gojo’s collar bone. Once pale skin is flushed, the sheen of sweat from all of today's practice, daunting and slick. He’s so _wet._ Megumi huffs in more air as he touches his cheek and rumbled shirt, sinking into his knees. 

Megumi has been sitting on the floor for so long his ass is numb. But he just sits and that’s all he can do. It had gotten cold he’d slipped his sweatshirt on. But that’s the least of his problems. He finally managed to bawl his eyes out, his sobs echoing through the entirety of the grand practice room. Megumi's eyes will be so puffy tomorrow. And his nose, God his nose is so red it's ridiculous. 

The door opens abruptly and Megumi flinches, a broad figure walking inside covered in shadow.

“Who is that?” He mumbles out, squinting as if to see better. 

“Hey.” A calm voice rasps. _Shit._ This is the last person he wants to see. _God, this is so embarrassing._

“You okay?” Ryomen calls out again and Megumi turns his face away. 

“You can’t smoke in here.” Megumi sighs out tiredly as lips wrap over white.

“Well, I won’t tell if you won’t.” The other chuckles, setting down his bag beside Megumi’s pale frame. 

“So, big day’s getting closer and closer, huh?” Megumi slowly looks back at him, lips pouted. _Why is he trying to have a conversation right now?_ He can see how much of a mess he is, completely unraveled and vulnerable. Megumi can’t even remember the last time he cried in front of his sister. 

“Well I can’t wait. I think you’re gonna be amazing.” Ryomen smiles into his cigarette but Megumi can’t bring himself to smile back. _He looks proud of him… What a joke..._

“Thanks.” Megumi rasps as he takes a cigarette from Ryomen’s giving hand. The older seems shocked but he hides it with another swift movement, the lighter flashing between them. Megumi leans close, wet lashes glistening for a moment as a tear slips from his jaw.

“So… You wanna talk about it?” _Why is he being so considerate?_ God, Megumi can’t handle this anymore. But Ryomen is patient, waiting without any judgment beside him. _Someone, just punch him please. Snap him out of this fog. Fuck, Fuck!_ Megumi is failing everyone. His sister, his dream to achieve perfection. And here someone is, actually complimenting him. Saying that what he’s poured his blood, sweat, and tears to is good enough. Giving him the time of day to just vent. But Megumi can’t be selfish. _He can’t do this no matter how enticing the offer is. A gentle pious hand to a beggar. Megumi shoves it away. It's what he deserves._

“I just had a hard day,” Megumi whines into his palm as he looks away. The sob had erupted through him at those kind words, unable to control how his throat contracted. Ryomen swallows and frowns in concern, leaning closer to him. 

“Was he playin’ a little too rough for you?” Megumi looks back, blinking away the blur. 

“Come on Fushiguro. He’s a prick.” Ryomen shakes his head, metal earrings ringing like bells at his curt movement.

“He’s brilliant,” Megumi whispers after a beat.

“Sure, but it’s not like he’s all warm and fuzzy.”

“Well - You don’t know him,” Megumi mutters into his cigarette, taking in a deep sip. Ryomen’s eyes widen in realization.

“Teachers huh? Damn kid.” The tanner chuckles out with a slight raise of his brow. _Oh, fuck. Fuck!_ With a withering gaze Megumi fumbles forward, grabbing his things. _Why did he just say that? Oh, my God. He’s such an idiot._

“Oh, come on. It’s okay! I don’t blame you!” 

“I should go home,” Megumi mutters between his shaking teeth as he slips the band of his bag over his shoulder.

“Oh, come on Fushiguro. I’m just playing.” Ryomen enunciates and Megumi walks away briskly. His heart is throbbing along his ribs, piercing him further. Megumi just wants to crawl, fall deep into the earth beneath him and stay there. _Fuck, FUCK! He knows. He knows now._ Ryomen stands quickly, tan muscles tense.

“Megumi!” Ryomen calls out, his voice echoing through the room. He seems so worried but Megumi won’t falter. Megumi will not turn back. 

The young dancer rests into his bath, relishing as his aching muscles slowly begin to pulse softer. He’d gotten to taste Gojo again, just as he wanted. But he’d hesitated. And it wasn’t as if it was in the best circumstance. _But - That kind of heat? That’s what Gojo wants from him?_ There’s no way he can show such a thing to an audience, much less the company. It is as embarrassing as it is intoxicating. It lingers and taunts him, and for a moment, the hands on his abs twitch. He wants release, climax from what Gojo did to him. What they’ve done, _together._

The younger’s hands slowly lower, snaking around his member. Black lashes flutter as he begins to move, his other hand resting and rubbing along his rim. As dark blue eyes begin to droop shut from pleasure he remembers Tsumiki and closes his mouth tightly. _God, he can’t do anything._ Megumi sighs in heated frustration, letting the water pool around him as his head dips under. 

The young man opens his eyes beneath the water, everything a blur. He closes them again, his black locks swaying in the ripples of water from the bubbles that leave his lips. But then, there's a sound. _Plip… plip… plip..._

Megumi opens his eyes, a haze of red over him. _What the fuck? Blood? But -_ He eyes squeeze shut. This must be another stupid thing his mind is making up. The young man shakes his head about, air slowly leaving him. He opens his eyes, anothers meeting his. Megumi’s whole body jolts, a figure looms over him with dry ink locks and a manic grin across their cheeks. _Get away, get away! GET AWAY - GETAWAYFROMMEGETAWAY..._

The sickly pale man lunges upward, gasping for air as he looks around the room. _That was - That was me!_ Blue eyes flit to bloody fingers and he gasps in pain, holding them with his other hand till his knuckles turn white. He can’t feel anything. _Squeeze harder. Why isn’t - What was that? Who?_ Megumi tightens his calloused grip but nothing. He’s never felt so fucking cold. The younger chokes out a high whine as his body convulses. He sinks into the ice around him, throat so tight he feels it pulsing. 

Megumi bites his lip as he wraps his towel around his waist. He trips over himself as he makes his way to the mirror, turning to three gashes embedded into his skin. It makes him breathless _._ The rises of skin around the cuts are pricked up, plucked raw like a chicken. Megumi heaves as trembling fingertips graze around the surface, feeling the bumps beneath his skin, the tender warmth. _How the fuck did this happen? What? He was just -_ The young man forcefully opens the mirror, taking out the small pair of scissors Tsumiki always uses. If he cuts them shorter, he can stop doing this. _It will stop, he can stop! Stop seeing all of this!_

He begins cutting away at his nails, looking up to the mirror for a moment. Yet what awaits him isn't him, it’s a demented face. His thin eyebrows, furrowed together tightly, a snarl along his tongue that stretches his lips so wide a wicked grin forms. _That. Isn’t. Him._ _It can’t be - that’s disgusting._

The man forcefully snaps the scissors shut and Megumi lurches forward, dropping the scissors to the sink. _Fuck, Fuck! He’s cut himself - Oh, God! Fuck!_ Blood spurts from the cut and he stumbles back, too afraid to look back at the reflection in the mirror. _What if it isn't him?_

“Sweetie? What are you doing in there?” Megumi bites down on his lip, hard to keep his breathing under control, ribs rippling up and down across his skin.

Megumi dances with Okkotsu. The Black Swan’s Pas de Deux. 

“Again.” Gojo chides sternly. Megumi moves as best he can muster with the little strength he has left, Okkotsu doing the same in bated breath. They turn and he’s lifted. Fall. _Dip down. Turn. Let your hands glide together._ They rush forward, sink backward again and again. Gojo’s expression does not change. Together they come to the end, the notes of the piano singing sombrely.

“Again.” The piano begins again at the words but Megumi winces away from Okkotsu. 

“Do you have any corrections?” He pleads into the tense air. Gojo blinks at him. It's as if he's completely given up.

“Ryomen told me that he saw you crying.” Gojo walks down the stairs. Megumi’s mouth falls open, loss for words. 

“That you were very upset and uh - That I should take it easy on you.” 

“I didn’t tell him that,” Megumi mutters. 

“Maybe you need a little break. Like maybe a day or two?” Gojo asks gently but there's no kindness there. There is nothing. 

“Satoru -”

“Oh! Or maybe a month what do you think?” Gojo yells and Megumi flinches.

“He shouldn't have said anything.” Megumi tries to defend himself.

“No, you shouldn’t be whining in the _first_ place.” Gojo points his finger at him, hot breath leaving his flared nose.

“I didn’t.” Megumi's eyes widen, shaking his head. _Please, let this work._

“You could be brilliant," The older whispers, shaking his head. "But you’re a _coward.”_

Megumi holds back the tears. Everything around him is so quiet it’s deafening. He is completely, and utterly, alone.

“Sorry.” Megumi lips purse, blinking rapidly. _Fuck, he’s gonna cry._

“Stop saying that - That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Stop being so _fucking_ weak! Again!” The violin and piano begin again as Gojo storms off. Megumi holds back his stuttering breaths as he walks back to Okkotsu’s front. 

Megumi makes his way through the dressing rooms. Everything is moving around him, costumes hanging and ready. Dancers stare as he passes but he pays them no mind. He can’t bear to see it. Their disappointed faces. 

“Ryomen.” Megumi calls into the soloist room. Ryomen looks up, Mahito turning. That was his old seat.

“Oh, look who decided to grace us with his presence.” Mahito snickers, a delighted smile on his lips.

“I need to talk with you.” Megumi continues, ignoring the fuck. 

“Okay.” Ryomen nods casually, looking back at his reflection in the mirror.

“Now!” Megumi snipes, grip on his bag tightening.

“Ow, ow.” Mahito purrs and Ryomen stands. 

“Shut up.” The tanner mutters, again with that flash of red. Mahito backs away, crossing his arms self consciously around his chest.

“Come on,” Ryomen murmurs for him to follow, exiting the room. Megumi does.

“What’s up?” He asks causally, turning back swifty to face the taller. It was so slight but it's all Megumi can use as leverage.

“You told him about last night?” Megumi tries his best to remain calm but it seethes out of him. Ryomen blinks in confusion before realization strikes him.

“Oh, yeah! I ran into him this morning and he said you guys were having some trouble.”

“Why would he talk to you?” Megumi shakes his head and Ryomen’s brow twitches. The tanner scoffs, kindness falling from his face.

“Excuse me, _your highness._ I just told him you're working your ass off and that I think you’ll be great.”

“Well you shouldn’t have.” Megumi bites and Ryomen stares for a long while with blank eyes. But then, that stern expression falls and he chuckles bitterly.

“Okay…” Ryomen sighs out with a grin that falls just as fast as it appeared, his thin brows furrowing together. Angry heated brown stabs at him, keeping the younger in place. God _, he's so pissed off._ Megumi's never seen him like this. Or at least, it was never directed at him. 

But Megumi is angry too. Though, for a moment, the younger almost flinched away. It's as if the older will throw him into the wall. Megumi honestly wouldn't be surprised. Ryomen's hard shoulder pushes him aside, sauntering back to the dressing room. Megumi holds onto it tightly as he rushes away. The younger doesn't want to be on the other side of a glare like that again. It made his skin crawl, the tears he’d kept at bay slipping off his cheek.

“Has he tried anything with you?” Tsumiki asks from her spot on the piano chair. She’s busy sewing away at his various pointe shoes. 

“He has a reputation.” She continues but Megumi doesn’t reply. He’s truly been hollowed out now. He longs for something, anything. To feel something. He stares at the lighter, letting himself feel the weight of it in his palm.

“I have a right to be concerned. You’ve been staying late, long nights _‘rehearsing_.’ Just hoping he isn't taking advantage, that’s all.”

“He’s not,” Megumi growls, igniting the flame over the end of his pointe shoes ribbon. 

“Good.” Tsumiki nods as he shoves the shoe away. “I just don’t want you to make the same mistake I did.” 

“Thanks…” He groans and Tsumiki chuckles.

“Not like that. I just mean as far as my career was concerned.”

“What career.” Megumi whispers. Tsumiki's hands falter.

“The one I gave up to raise you.” 

“I’m twenty eight.” 

“So?”

“And only…”

“Only, what?”

“Nothing.”

 _“What?”_ Tsumiki’s voice goes cold.

 _“Nothing.”_ He replies and Tsumiki’s smile twitches.

“How’s your skin?” She sings softly, her delicate smile lingering. Megumi feels a shiver run down his spine.

“Fine.” He whispers.

“We leaving it alone?” Megumi can only nod. _He can't speak. Why is it always like this?_ Tsumiki continues. “Let me see...”

Megumi keeps his eyes on the floor. Tsumiki rises, the piano seat scratching against the wooden floors.

“Take off your shirt.” She hardly ever has to raise her voice. Even here she is calm, voice twisting to sound as sweet and concerned as possible. Megumi should have realized. He should have known. How could he have been so blind?

“No.” Megumi bites back, glaring up at her. Tsumiki stares unafraid, eyes unchanging. This is the first time he's ever stood up for himself. It feels… _good._ Tsumiki's eyes darken and he wills everything in him not to flinch. _He's still afraid, deathly afraid._

In the beat of silence where his heart hammers in his chest, the doorbell rings. His older sister's brown eyes linger for a moment longer before walking away.

“Can I help you?” She asks as casually as possible. Megumi can't see or hear the other through the door but her whole body stiffened immediately at the sight of whoever it was. When the other speaks it's a soft murmur, a bleeding lullaby. But then Tsumiki closes the door, crass and stern.

“Who was that?”

“It was no one.” She sighs, not bothering to look him in the eye. _Oh, so now he doesn't even deserve to be looked at? You know what? Fuck that._ Megumi rises and rushes past her, opening the door.

“Hello?” Megumi calls out. The broad figure turns, Ryomen smiling awkwardly up at him. 

“Hey.” He waves and Megumi closes the door behind him.

“What are you doing here?” He whispers as if Tsumiki can hear him.

“I just came by to apologize. You’re right. I should have never spoken to him about you -” The door opens behind him.

“Sweetheart,” Tsumiki calls gently.

“Give me a second.” 

“Your dinner.”

“Tsumiki, _please!”_ The old woman stares unblinking before closing the door harshly. 

“She’s a trip.” Ryomen chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“How do you know where I live?” Megumi grumbles and Ryomen shrugs, hands sinking further into his pockets.

“I have my ways.” The older smirks and Megumi turns his head away. He feels afraid. _What the hell does that mean?_ Ryomen's smile only widens.

“Relax. I got it from Ijichi in the office. Look - I just - I feel really shitty about what I did and I really want to make it up to you so how about I take you out to dinner.”

“I don’t think -”

“Okay! That’s fine. Then - Um - What about drinks?” 

The door opens again and Megumi’s fists tighten. 

“Sweetie, you need to rest.” Tsumiki murmurs, in her hands no doubt a pointe shoes as if to remind him the inevitable. 

“Jesus...” Ryomen sighs with wide eyes. He understands instantly the dynamic between them. Megumi’s eyes light with flames.

“Wait.” Megumi says sternly and Ryomen straightens. The younger makes his way back to the door. 

“What are you doing?” Tsumiki steps back as Megumi grabs his shoes and a coat.

“Going out.” 

“What? Megu! You’re on the stage tomorrow!” 

Ryomen smirks into his drink. A classy bar around them. It’s modern but casual enough that Megumi didn’t stick out completely.

“I can’t believe he calls him that. That’s fucking disgusting.”

“I think it’s sweet.” Megumi sighs into his cup.

“Little prince? Come on he probably calls everyone that.”

“No way. That’s just for Getou.” 

“Well, I bet he’ll be calling you his little prince any day now.” Ryomen chuckles, leaning into his palm.

“I don’t know about that.” Megumi scoffs, shaking his head.

“Oh, sure he will. Just gotta let him choke on your cock.” Ryomen sighs out and Megumi’s mouth falls agape. _Oh, jesus..._ His face flushes, looking away.

“Cheeseburger, extra bloody.” A waitress drops the plate and Ryomen’s eyes light up. God, he didn't even notice her. _How in the world can he just say that?_

“Danke Schoen.” The older mumbles between his lips and the young girl swallows.

“Let me know if that’s juicy enough for you.” 

“Oh, I will.” 

“Ya - You got enough cheese?” 

“No, but you do.” The girl gets the hint and backs away. _How does he do that so effortlessly?_

“Enjoy.” She mutters and Ryomen turns back to him with an overly dramatic frown. Megumi messes with the tableware beneath him.

“Okay, wanna spruce up?” The older asks as he runs his hand into his bag. He pulls out a see-through shirt, tight fitting and black.

“I carry a spare in case I wake up somewhere unexpected.” _God, his smile is captivating._ Megumi ducks his head, a slight grin twitching across him. _So like him, of course._ Megumi doesn’t even know him but that’s just who he is. He's just - fun. Lives in the moment, let's his pleasure run wild and free. Ryomen takes a big bite of his burger and Megumi's eyes linger. He _lives_ for pleasure.

“So, how is he?” The older asks through his chews and Megumi frowns, looking away for a moment confused. _What the hell is he talking about?_

“Satoru?” Ryomen raises a brow, equally confused. Megumi coughs, stiffening. 

“I wouldn’t know.” Megumi answers in a huffed tone. _What the hell? He isn't sleeping with him. Is that what he thinks of him? So lowly he couldn't have gotten the part like a normal person?_

“Oh, come on.” Ryomen groans, a slight roll of the eye.

“I really don’t want to talk about that.” Megumi counters sternly. 

“Okay…” Ryomen’s eyes widen in concern. But not in a way that suggests worry for Megumi’s well being. More so that Megumi isn’t getting a good fuck. But then that concern melts to laughter. He's so intrigued by Megumi's stiffness it almost makes the younger laugh. This is so nice. He’s never hung out with anyone like this before.

“God, you really need to relax.” Ryomen's brows shoot up for a moment as he leans down to his feet. He flops his bags on his thick thighs and pulls out a cigarette holder.

“One for you. One for me.” Megumi eyes the white pill. Ryomen continues. “Oh and don’t worry. It’s pure, I promise. I brought it with me straight from San Francisco.” 

The older slides the pill on his tongue, grabbing his beer to swallow it down. 

“What is it?” Megumi tilts his head.

“What are you kidding?” Ryomen's eyes widen as he sets down his drink in a frenzy. “You’ve never rolled?”

Megumi blinks. _What does that even mean?_ Ryomen's smile softens, a heat starting to stir in them.

“Oh, it will relax you a little. Loosen you up. See the night sky.” Ryomen drawls out slowly and Megumi swallows.

“How long does it last?”

“A couple hours tops.” The older chuckles, rubbing his hands together. He looks so excited, but, Megumi can't. _The show, Megumi. You can't do that before the first time you perform on stage!_

“It’s okay.” Megumi chuckles quietly, looking back down to his plate.

“Okay…” Ryomen bites his lip, taking the pill back and placing it in his cigarette case. 

Megumi stares in the mirror. The see-through shirt is so stretchy, almost itchy against his fingertips. His phone buzzes, Tsumiki’s name flashing on the screen. Megumi’s frown deepens, shutting off the device. 

He hurriedly slides the black over his tank top and turns around. _Shit,_ you can still see the pink scarring of his cuts. Megumi slips on his cardigan again and exits the bathroom, winding up the stairs timidly. No one pays him any mind, dancing, or drinking in their sways.

Megumi freezes for a moment, some women surrounding Ryomen. The older smirks at them, uncapping the pill and drizzling it’s substance over a drink. Brown honey eyes turn and notices Megumi staring, a big smile stretching across his face. 

“Hey! Look who I ran into! A brat!” Ryomen's thick arm tugs forward, another young man stumbling into the scene. He wears the same black skinny jeans, though not as ripped, a tight cotton shirt over him. He's broad too, about the same build as Ryomen which makes Megumi's mouth water. Then he sees his face and Megumi's entire body stills completely.

“Actually, it’s Itadori. Hi! I’m Itadori Yuuji.” The other trips over his words but his smile soothes it entirely. _How can someone look so kind?_ Same peach pink hair, but it's down, spiky tresses across his forehead. Megumi swallows _. Is he drunk? No, he can't be - But then._

“I have to go,” Megumi mutters between them. _What if there aren't two of him and he's just seeing things?_ Besides he can’t handle two of them. Itadori is just as gorgeous. Softer too from the looks of his gentle expression. There's no way Megumi can't handle this. _No way._

“Oh, no! You can’t go! I just got us some drinks.” Ryomen pouts, winding around him. His leather jacket swings as he gestures to the bar dramatically.

“I shouldn’t. We’re on the stage tomorrow.” Megumi softly chides. Ryomen rolls his eyes, though slightly dazed. It seems the effects has already begun to work. He isn't fully there one hundred percent but he's smiling more. It seems he's brighter and overall, effortlessly happier.

“So what are you gonna do? Go home to _mommy?”_ Ryomen playfully whines with a smirk and Megumi turns away with a frown. _Fucker. Your brother is right there. I can't embarrass myself more._ But, then Ryomen's gaze turns soft, a hand lingering between them. 

“Hey, come on. Live a little.” Ryomen drawls, gesturing back to the bar. Even Itadori seems shocked by the softness of his deep tone. Megumi looks at the drink waiting for him, resting idly beside others. It's practically glistening in the lights. Come _on! Just do it. It will help ease you. Loosen you up._

_You need this. If anything, you'll feel something. Something good._

“It’s just a couple hours right?” Megumi asks, holding back his thirst. _What is it like to live in such a pleasurable world?_ And Ryomen seems to notice the click, the final thread coming undone. He knows he's been taken.

“Tops.” Ryomen’s grin widens and Megumi sits down on a stool, hoping all his worries don't come crashing down on him. They raise their glasses, a cheer said amongst them. 

“You haven’t told me who you are.” Itadori smiles politely and Megumi relaxes. He's so sweet he almost seems younger. Maybe Ryomen is younger than him, he just acts more mature.

“I’m a dancer.” Megumi can't help the smile. He's proud he is, even if at the moment he isn't what he wishes he was. But the thought drifts away as Itadori's smile widens. He shakes his head teasingly.

“No - I mean your name.” Itadori giggles and Megumi flushes slightly.

“Oh, I’m Fushiguro.” 

"There a first name to that?"

"Maybe…" Megumi smirks slightly. Oh _, shit._ _He should probably - Just in case he is seeing things._

"You guys are - twins?" He asks, with a quick swallow. But Itadori and Ryomen don't seem bothered by the question. They must get it a lot which instantly soothes Megumi's beating heart.

"Nope." Ryomen sighs into his drink and Itadori kicks him from underneath the table. The older’s body stiffens for a moment before relaxing, brow twitching at the gesture.

"Yes, yes we are." Itadori smiles again as if embarrassed by his brother's antics. It seems they're very close. Their bodies are practically turning together even if they don't mean to.

“We dance in the same company.” Megumi gestures between himself and Ryomen, just to clarify whatever idea Itadori came up with in his head. Megumi is wearing sweats to a very hip bar after all. 

“Right - Ballerina’s. I’ve never been to the ballet.”

“Oh, then you’re _definitely_ not gay.” Ryomen chuckles, taking a deep sip of his drink and Itadori sighs in frustration. Seems it's a joke between them? Or maybe something else, Megumi can't really tell. 

“It’s kinda boring, isn’t it?” Itadori tries again. Megumi blinks. _Is he stupid? He's sitting with two dancers..._

“No it’s not.” Megumi's frown deepens and Itadori bites his lip, realizing his mistake.

“No - It’s just - It’s not for everyone.” Ryomen sings out, the casualness of his ease relaxing Megumi slightly.

“You should come sometime. I can comp you tickets whenever you want.” Megumi says after a beat, remembering himself. He should be nice to Ryomen's brother. He isn't a bad guy, just a little slow. Itadori’s eyes light up.

“Yeah!” He throws his fist in the air and Megumi holds back a laugh. _Why is he so excited?_ Ryomen had rolled his eyes at the gesture tiredly as if it happened all the time. What a weird set of twins. 

“Well, okay. I think it’s time for another round. Bottoms up.” Ryomen clanks their glasses together, downing the last of it. Megumi meekly copies. At that, the broader gets up to go to the bar. Megumi stares at the ice in his drink and Itadori coughs in the silence.

“So, what are you guys working on?” The other begins before Megumi’s phone rings. It had echoed slightly. That's... different... He slides it off and turns back. 

“Uh - Swan Lake.” Megumi swallows. _Why did that feel so big? Like a lump slowly trailing down him?_

“Yeah?” Itadori nods softly. Gosh, he's so sweet. And his lips are so plump. _Are Ryomen’s that soft?_

“You know it?” Megumi’s eyes slowly flicker over Itadori’s jaw. So sharp, so wide. 

“Oh, no - Not really. Heard of it though. What’s it about?” _Why is he being so considerate right now?_ The lights flash across them. They seem so much brighter. Megumi swallows again, squinting. 

“It’s about a girl who’s been turned into a swan. She needs love to break the spell.”

“Cool!” 

“Yeah, but, her prince falls for the wrong girl and she kills herself.” Megumi shrugs and Itadori pouts, shoulders shrinking. 

“So much for a happy ending, then.” 

“It’s beautiful, actually,” Megumi whispers. The world is beginning to move slowly around him. Colors meld. This is beautiful too, like a soothing lullaby come to life. The bass of the booming music he’s only now hearing pounds louder, pulsing in his stomach and thighs. Megumi shivers as his entire body begins to heat, prickling at even the slightest of touches. It feels nice, terribly pleasant. He wants to sink further into his chair but Megumi looks back to Itadori. The other’s thick lips move gently but the sound flies completely over his head. He can hear Itadori’s heart beating ever so faintly between them. _Everything - It's so loud. So warm, so very warm._ Itadori’s face begins to blur.

“Huh?” Megumi drawls out. Itadori’s eyes soften in the lights. 

“I said you're beautiful.” Itadori shyly scratches the back of his head. Megumi blinks slowly, mouth falling agape. He feels parched. A drink. He wants a drink. But such a beverage won’t suffice. He needs something slick against his tongue. Something that will slip from his lips and wrap around him. Megumi leans forward and Itadori stiffens slightly, a blush spreading over tan skin. 

Then, he stops himself. Megumi smiles widely, eyes drooping and Itadori smiles too, though slightly confused. Bubbles of laughter begin to fall from his lips like honey and Itadori tilts his head.

“That’s funny?” The soft voice flutters past and Megumi looks down to his hands. They ripple in dots, like goosebumps soothing over his skin again and again. He’s becoming a swan. 

“My hands are sweaty.” He whispers, eyes glossing.

“Hey!” A voice echoes. Megumi looks up to Ryomen sliding next to him. His meaty shoulder bumps his and for a moment, a flutter of tickling sensations spread across his pale arm and chest. Megumi leans down on Ryomen’s shoulder, sliding up so their noses boop, hair sticking to leather.

“Oh, hey.” The older giggles out, tan fingertips lifting his jaw. Megumi smiles softly as the warmth spreads down his neck and collarbones.

“Looks like someone must be rolling. Alright, come on. It’s time to go dance.” 

The lights flicker pinks and greens for what seems to be an eternity. Megumi has no idea what’s happening to his body. He moves and he’s light. He feels free as he weaves around, nothing to stop him. No worries about how others will look at him, not when Itadori is laughing in glee matching his steps. But the lights keep flashing and he can’t see things for long. It all blurs into a heap of pleasure and fun as Megumi runs his hands through his hair. He doesn’t have to be perfect here. He can be as much of a mess as he pleases. A large grin stretches across his face as he moves with Itadori to the beat. It pounds so deep he feels it electrocute down his spine. Lips meet his and Megumi takes what he pleases, biting and sucking the mouth whole. The other’s breath stutters for a moment and Megumi doesn’t let them go until they're breathless. Hands spread across him, another body snaking behind him. Wet kisses slide across his neck and Megumi keens, gripping tighter into short locks. 

Suddenly he’s standing in the middle of various bouncing bodies, mouth agape. He looks around but he’s just standing there. His heat is still ablaze, thoroughly fogged over more so than anything he’s ever experienced. But then, he sees another look at him, a seductive flutter of long lashes. Their face is covered in eyeliner, shimmers of glitter across their lids. It looks like him. No, _it is him._ The other him wraps long pale digits around his neck, arching back in ecstasy. Megumi can only watch as the other him writhes, mouth slowly falling agape.

 _Megumi… Megumi…_ soft voices whisper around him. Megumi’s eyes widen, air escaping him.

“Hey!” A gruff voice calls out and Megumi looks down. Ryomen smiles and suddenly everything disappears. Voices, the other, everything is completely forgotten, slipping so far away it’s as if they never existed in the first place. They dance across each other, a tan hand ever gentle as the older spins him. Megumi giggles in glee, stomach hurting from how much it’s happened. He hasn’t laughed like this ever before in his entire life.

Ryomen runs a hand through his hair and Megumi smirks, doing the same till their arms combine. The shorter steps forward and holds him as the swirling bodies around them erupt in vivid colors of red. Megumi melts into his embrace, arms sinking to wrap tighter across his waist. Even Ryomen's gelled locks have begun to fall from their mold, mixing with sweat and musk. Megumi wants to inhale more. 

_He wants to be eaten alive._

Megumi moans out, a soft pair of lips wrapping against his. His head bumps into a hard object and, groggily, his eyes begin to open. A girl is gasping beneath him, her legs wrapped around his hips. His eyes widen as he sets her down, her heaving relaxing as her soft eyes open for a moment. _What the fuck? What the fuck -_ Megumi walks away, pulling up his sweats in a frenzy and the girl’s mouth widens.

“Hey! What the fuck? Where are you going?” Megumi tries the string around his hips tighter as he looks around. The walls are covered in graffiti and paper posters. Everyone is a complete blur, smoking something that smells foul. The white of its smoke lifts to the ceiling overhead. The lights are still flashing but it’s more so from the flickering of light bulbs, not the bar’s fluorescents. _When had they gotten here? Where are - What?_

Squeals of laughter echo around him. _'Megu’_ Tsumiki sings out and he walks faster, making his way out the door. He’d danced completely unhinged. Megumi has never done that before. But his head is still rheeling. He is just slightly more awake. _Out, out, out. Get out of here._ Megumi rushes outside, the cold air slapping his face. The moon shimmers across his hair, winter breeze flittering past. _Fuck, it's freezing._ _Focus on something else._ There's still bustle, people out though slim. Somehow he'd lost his cardigan and he has no idea where -

“Megumi! Where are you goin’?” Ryomen calls out. He’d popped from behind the bar door, faint music blasting from inside. Megumi swallows at his curious gaze. Some of his hair sticks to his forehead now, beads of perspiration sliding down his chiseled cheekbones.

Ryomen holds his hand as they jog to the nearest cab, sliding inside. Both their heads rest on the tops of the backseat, jostling with the road beneath them. Megumi can’t look away. Ryomen’s skin, even here in the light flashes of shops and buildings, is still ever tan. Sunkissed could hardly compare to it’s vibrant color. The edge of his jaw too, the rise of his nose. Even his plump lips glisten beneath the moonlight overhead. And he’s still wearing those damn sterling earrings. He’s a masterpiece, wrecked yes, but _alive._

The older turns with a roll of his neck, blinking for a moment. Megumi doesn’t think he ever noticed the birth marks under his almond eyes. Or are they scars? They match perfectly with his face tattoos; it didn't even occur to him. But then, another movement catches his eye. A tan hands tiptoes across the space between their thighs till it grazes his hand. His thick pointer finger pokes at the side of Megumi's thigh, and for a moment, their eyes meet. It’s blazed over in utter passion. If Megumi could only have a sliver of that lust, that would be all he needs to unravel completely. 

Ryomen tongue glides across his top lip as his gaze slides down Megumi’s body. Megumi swallows as the soft fingertips walk across the span of his thigh. He grabs Megumi's bulge and the paler sighs, neck arching further into his seat. Just at a grasp the feeling is extreme, shooting through his veins to his arms and neck. The warm hand rubs up and down and Megumi wants nothing more than for his fingers to slip inside. _Cab, Megumi. Cab -_ Megumi grabs Ryomen's long fingers and pushes them to his side, keeping them there. A gruff hand holding of sorts. Ryomen’s agape mouth widens into a smile, looking out the window and Megumi copies, the buildings blurring past. He feels happy, _actually happy_ right now.

Megumi opens his door with a feverish giggle, Ryomen stumbling inside. The older’s laugh is hilarious, whinded and howling like the wind. It just makes Megumi laugh harder. The younger falls on the door as he closes it, shushing the other as he shakily tries to lock the bolts. He kicks off his shoes, the older doing the same as Megumi unwraps his winter coat. He doesn’t know where Ryomen’s leather jacket went and truthfully he doesn’t care. The older's arms have two bands of ink black around them another two beneath the dip of chiseled shoulders. Megumi’s never seen his arms before. They’re always covered in sleeves or a sweatshirt. And that swell of muscle, _God. Ryomen Sukuna is a work of art._

Megumi feels the base of his neck prickle and turns to glowing eyes. Tsumiki unravels from the darkness of the kitchen, arms crossed. 

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” 

“Mhh-Hmm. Late.” Megumi sings as Ryomen slips away into the hall.

“Where have you been?”

“To the moon,” Megumi’s gaze catches red. “And back.”

“You’ve been drinking…” Tsumiki mutters softly, disappointed, but Megumi can’t feel any regret for his actions. He feels alive. He feels pleasure coursing through his veins. And he needs more. 

And Megumi _will_ have it.

He giggles as Tsumiki comes face to face with him. 

“Ding, ding, ding!” Megumi rings and Tsumiki’s frown deepens.

“What else have you been doing?” The older enunciates and Megumi’s smile widens. 

“Oh? You want to know their names?” Tsumiki doesn’t answer, but black overtakes her eyes. 

“You will sleep this off -” Megumi scoffs at her lecturing.

“Let’s see. There was Itadori. These two girls -”

“Be quiet.”

“I _fucked_ both of them.” His brows raise in glee and Tsumiki convulses.

“Shut your mouth!” Tsumiki yells, slapping her palm over his mouth. Fury seethes as Megumi’s head is thrown back. He stumbles away, feet moving of their own accord. He grabs harshly to Sukuna’s wrist, thumb tracing over ink as he pulls him down the hall. They jog down, picture frames gliding past. Tsumiki blinks for a moment before racing after them but Megumi is a step faster, closing the door behind him and putting his makeshift door stop on the floor. Tsumiki pushes against it, her whole body collapsing on the wood in desperation. 

“Don’t come in here!” Megumi yells gruffly.

“What is this?” Tsumiki sobs.

“It’s called privacy! I’m not twelve anymore!” Sukuna’s hands wrap around his neck and chest from behind him. It's a purely possessive gesture. One that makes Megumi fill to the brim in heat.

“You’re not my Megu right now!” She wails banging on the door. 

_“Leave me alone!”_ Megumi snipes, harshly closing the remainder of the shaking door. It quiets. Silence over takes his senses, beside his breathing and faint heartbeat.

He turns, Ryomen in the reflection of his bedroom mirror with his lips slightly agape. The older smiles slightly, a sheen of sweat over his collarbones. Megumi can see it now, the other markings that make their way across his chest. He wants to see all of it. 

No, Megumi will make it _his. Sukuna is his._

The pale man’s fingertips prickle with a fluttering sensation. Megumi rushes into him, lips colliding with the shorters. Their teeth clank together in the harshness, lips sucking against one another. His large hands hold him firmly, bracelets sliding down his forearms. Megumi finds the fabric of Sukuna’s black shirt and rips it clean down the middle. Sukuna gasps slightly before pulling him forward, strong fingers gripping to his hair and tugging. Megumi chokes in desperation as they grind into one another. Sukuna wants this too. He can feel his throbbing. His longing for release. 

Megumi’s nimble long fingers unbuckle the chain belt, tugging down the tight pants. He pushes Sukuna into the bed and he falls happily, Megumi straddling over him. They moan into one another's mouths, biting till blood seeps from their spit slicken lips. Sukuna’s skilled hands unfurl Megumi’s shirts, for a moment grazing along his ribs. The firm warm hands wrap around his middle and lift him. 

Megumi gasps momentarily winded as he’s thrown beneath Sukuna, arms bouncing against his mattress. He lifts his hips through his heaving as Sukuna tugs his sweats and boxers down. _Oh, God. His tattoos._ They dip just above his chest, two sharp lines cascading across his tight abs. It makes Megumi's stomach coil with heat, precum smearing across his stomach.

Sukuna groans at the sight, sinking into Megumi as soft lips meet his again, the feeling of jeans beneath the younger's thighs intoxicating. Megumi can only relish in the utter glee he feels as a wet mouth travels down his body, teeth nipping along the reddening skin. _This ever encompassing heat blazes in him. 'Burn me alive. Take me’_ _he sings through shaking teeth._ And Sukuna will with an ever present smile. He will ravish in the delectable body before him like a God given an offering. Hands squeeze at his chest and pinch his nipples, Megumi writhing back into his blankets. _Has he ever felt pleasure like this before?_

Sukuna stops right above his throbbing cock, before wrapping his arms below his thighs. Megumi can feel the perspiring skin of Sukuna’s shoulders, against the cold underside of his muscle that tenses instantly. Tan elbows dig into the bed as the older lowers, fingertips digging into Megumi’s hip bones. Sukuna smirks as his tongue spreads his lips wide, grazing ever so slightly across Megumi’s slit. 

“Fuck my mouth. Fuck it till I can't speak.” Sukuna rasps along the side of his length and Megumi groans, neck arching back as lips trail up his veins. _Fuck, that feels so good._ Suddenly a hot slick wraps around his head, spreading Sukuna’s lips further and he sinks like a groveling begar graced a meal. Megumi had taken down a god with something as simple as this? A whine escapes Megumi’s lips as he lifts his hips ever so gently. Sukuna’s grip tightens and the younger keens, back arching as the heat of his tongue slides back over his slit. Perhaps he was never a god to begin with. Sukuna sinks deeper into the slow ravenous thrusts and Megumi shudders. Ripples of heat soar beneath his skin and Megumi's mouth falls agape, a single thread of saliva glistening. 

Black long lashes flutter open, pale supple skin meeting his. Instead of Sukuna, Megumi smiles at himself, spit dripping down his chin beside his cock. Megumi’s eyes widen at this and abruptly sit up, gasping for air. _What the fuck? No -_ Sukuna looks up, biting his lip. He soothes him with a gentle shush, crawling closer across the pale lithe body. Their lips meet again, much softer now from Megumi's shivers. It's like Sukuna can tell he's overwhelmed. In slow rhythm their lips dance despite the insatiable desire, the heat exchanged in every exhale. _More, more. Give me more. More and more still._

As if reading his thoughts, Sukuna begins to kiss along his body. As Megumi's eyes linger, the tattoos across Sukuna's back begin to dance. The two thick black lines weave together, turning into crows feathers. _Wings, he's sprouting wings._ Megumi shakes in horror as the sun kissed muscle flexes, ink markings sharpening further. But then, his wetness wraps around Megumi’s pulsing cock and the ripples across his broad back dissipate into perspiration. 

Slick is all Megumi can feel. Completely wet he will stay as his arms flex around him from the building pleasure. It's all he can do. The younger moans out from the back of his throat. It's absolutely grutle, hungry as he thrusts himself into the pilant red mouth stretching further at the motion. Sukuna’s lips are pulsing just like his cock. _It feels good. So fucking good._ Megumi chokes out a louder whine at the sight of Sukuna's eyes watering over, his pale neck shaking back and forth against a hot fabric. This everlasting pleasure is rising and rising still. The heat burning in his stomach is building to white and it is all Megumi has ever wanted. And he will have it, Sukuna will make sure of this. It will be his, just like how the reddened mouth is _his._

Megumi doesn’t know how to handle it, his body writhing as his feverish thrusts fasten. He cries out in pleasure unabashedly, eyes rolling back as his hair digs into the blankets beneath him. _Ecstasy. This is pure ecstasy._ Sukuna has given him the world of hedonism and Megumi thrives in it. He is _in love_ with this feeling. A tear slips from his eyes as he licks his lips in euphoria, fucking harsher into Sukuna’s bleeding lips with a manic grin. _He doesn’t want to talk?_

_He’ll never talk again._

Sukuna's hands grip firmer, brows knotting for a moment. It's absolutely pathetic how red and wanting the older's thick cock is. Megumi watches it bounce up and down, a wet sound from it sliding across Sukuna's tight abs. 

"Cum you slut." Megumi rasps and Sukuna's mouth pops off his pink head. Sukuna shakes as orgasm overtakes him, completely untouched. It makes the smile across Megumi's lips widen. Ropes of white spurt across his tattoos, hands gripped to his thighs splitting blood beneath his fingertips. _How pathetic, how beautiful._ Megumi marvel's in utter bliss as Sukuna swallows, body a trembling mess. 

Just like the slut he is Sukuna plunges forward, wrapping his lips around Megumi again and sucking harder than he ever has, up and down. The younger feels himself begin to lose all coherent thought as he begins shakily moving his thighs back into rhythm. The pleasure becomes so great he begins to sob, ecstatic groans turning to high whines. Sukuna's cheeks hollow, moaning around his cock though muffled. Megumi writhes as his cum shoots out of him and Sukuna’s back tenses, nails ripping the skin of Megumi’s hip bones and back. Megumi shudders as his whines quiet to hushed breaths, Sukuna slowly raising himself from the masterful mess he’s created. _Marvel at me. You’ve made me completely undone._ Sukuna chuckles out, kissing the tip of Megumi’s overstimulated cock. 

The older rises then, wiping his lips between his knuckles, also breathless as he swallows to calm himself. Sukuna can be so considerate, even here in this heated fog of scorching lust. His tan chest is moving up and down so quickly the ripples of abs tighten with each brisk movement. The musk around them is so thick, sweat so apparent the cum across Sukuna's tattoos, front and back begin to drip like wax. 

Now Megumi has made a mess of the artwork. Even as cum slides down his chin Sukuna rubs his fingers against the slick and sucks on them. To think such a god like this enjoyed being a beggar. Megumi's eyes trace every crevice of tan skin till he's back again to Sukuna's thick member. He’s so aroused once more, red with precum dribbling from his cock like honey. 

“Fuck me. _Fuck me -_ ” Megumi gasps out with drooping lids and all Sukuna does is laugh. It’s so hoarse Megumi can hardly hear it from his wheezing.

“You have to be able to dance. Sorry _baby._ ” Sukuna tries to say it as suavely as he can but it's lost in how his throat contracts. How a once deep voice can barely be distinguished by whisper. Megumi smiles at Sukuna's swallow of desperation.

“Don’t make me beg.” Megumi whines with a playful swing of his head, gripping tighter to the blanket beneath him. His body had begun to move of its own accord, trembling muscles lifting for Sukuna to ravage. And Sukuna looks so ready too, so hungry and thirsting for more his body had twitched at the sight.

Teary eyed and flushed with sweat dripping to the blanket beneath him, Megumi must already look fucked whole. But in this blaze of orgasmic bliss all Megumi wants is more. He wants all the pleasure the world can provide.

“Oh, I will. Later. That's a promise.” Sukuna whispers between his heated breaths. Megumi bites his lip, to take away the pleads that beckon to fall. He’s done just as Sukuna wished. He’s fucked him mute, his throat so raw it pains him to even speak. Megumi likes the way Sukuna looks in pain. The slight wince of his trembling jaw, the crinkle of his eyes as sweat falls from his sharp curve of it.

 _“Oh, my sweet boy.”_ Sukuna murmurs into the air between them and Megumi blinks rapidly. His eyes widen in realization, his double’s smile falling from his lips. The other Megumi raises his arms and punges forward a pillow, blackening Megumi’s sight. 

Faint whispers awaken him, the heat of the sun sprinkling across his face. Megumi winces in pain, grabbing at his head and slowly rising from the sea of blankets beneath him. He turns groggily to the clock. 11:36 and ticking. _Fuck. Oh, fuck!_ Megumi’s eyes widen as he stumbles out of bed, tripping on his sheets. He rushes to a cabinet, pulling on his dancer belt.

“Shit!” He groans, fumbling to put on some sweats and a jacket. Megumi bends down ready to take out the door stopper but it is no longer there. He shakes his head staring back. Only stuffed animals meet his clouded gaze. Megumi roughly opens his door, thundering down the hall. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He gruffs as he slips on his pastel pink coat. Tsumiki sits in the middle of their living room, blankly staring at the wall. He grabs his bag and forcefully opens the door.

“I’m moving out.” Venom pours from his lips and all Tsumiki does is roll her eyes. He sprints down the apartment hall.

When he climbs up the theater stage, the faint orchestra plays. 

“My music…” Megumi mutters in realization as he begins making his way faster to the stage's wings. 

There, surrounded by the entirety of the company, Itadori raises his arms, weaving them like gentle wings toward Okkotsu. Megumi shakes his head, squinting as if it could change anything. But, that isn’t Itadori. It’s Ryomen, completely new as he graces around the stage like a saint. Pure and ever kind, Okkotsu and him move together in perfect tandem. 

_What? What is this?_

Megumi rushes onto the stage, Gojo standing proudly in the center front. 

“Satoru! I’m so sorry -”

“Keep on going!” Gojo instructs to the pair, who ignore him as if falling in love for the first time. Gojo slowly turns to him, face blank of any emotion but tired disappointment. 

“Go get warmed up.”

Megumi breathes in through his mouth with wide eyes, slowly walking away. 

As he warms on a barre resting at the side, he sees through the curtains just how brilliant Ryomen is. Not as graceful but still elegant. An air of finery as Okkotsu dances around him curiously. Ryomen smiles kindly, moving in unison as their muscles gleam from the harsh stage lights above. Megumi watches in quiet fury as the music blends with their excited expressions. Okkotsu kneels and rests his head on Itadori’s hand, the song ending in a crescendo of violins. Shit, not Itadori. This is Ryomen no doubt about it. Tattoos glisten in sweat just like the night before. But he’s so sweet, so pure Megumi’s brain is twisting in confusion. 

The company claps and Gojo nods his head.

“That was good. Actually very good.” Gojo mumbles before clapping his hands together. “Okay, let’s take ten!” 

Ryomen immediately rushes to him, a slight jog in his step. So much sweat, like a wet thorny rose. 

“Hey!” Ryomen waves tiredly and Megumi raises his head. 

“Look, he just wanted to mark it and asked me to step in. Okay?” He shrugs off the practice tulle coat and hands it to Megumi. 

“I overslept.” Megumi enunciates and Ryomen smiles. 

“Oops… Well, hey! At least you had a good time, right?” 

“You put something in my drink.”

“Yeah.” Ryomen nods after a moment, confused. 

“And you just took off in the morning?” Megumi whispers. Ryomen frowns.

“In the morning?” 

“Yeah you slept over?” Megumi tilts his head, also confused.

“No? Maybe it was the brat.” Ryomen chuckles. 

“But we…”

“But we _what_ Fushiguro?” Ryomen sighs out. Megumi looks away before meeting brown again. The older blinks for a moment before a smile forms.

“What - Did you think about me as my brother was going down on you?” Ryomen gasps. He looks positively pleased.

“Stop.” Megumi whispers as a warning and Ryomen’s eyes widen in glee.

“Oh my God! You did! You fantasized about me!” 

“Shut up.” Megumi snarls and walks away. Ryomen gasps like a girl.

“Was I good?” 

The strings of the orchestra play as Megumi floats around Okkotsu, Todo looming behind. As he begins his solo on the stage Gojo’s eyes flicker to Ryomens. Ryomen looks back at him and Megumi’s chest tightens. 

_No, no._ This was supposed to be his chance to prove himself. His chance to achieve perfection. He grabs the stuffed animals in his room. Dogs, elephants, a long white snake. He loved animals so much as a kid. Megumi picks them up forcefully and runs to the trash chute, chucking them inside. 

His pointe shoes dig into the resin beneath him. The orchestra plays louder and the ensemble dances around the ‘cliff’. They’ve reached it, the White Swans suicide.

“The final act! You’re final dance!” Megumi turns into Okkotsu’s arms.

“You’ve tasted your dream! Touched it! Only to have it crushed!” Gojo yells as Megumi is taken by Todo’s strong arms. He weaves between the pair, Okkotsu next, then Todo. 

“Your heart is broken! Wounded! The lifeforce fading! The blood drips!” All of the dancers flutter in unison as Megumi is lowered by Todo. 

“The black swan stole your love! There’s only one way to end the pain!” Megumi rushes up the slope of the cliff. 

“You're not fearful - But, filled with acceptance!” The music soars, the ensemble in two rows, flying together. Okkotsu kneels on his right, Todo at his left.

“And you look to Rothbart!” Megumi’s mouth opens, coiling his hand away.

“And then at the prince!” Megumi’s long arm extends gently.

“Yes! And then at the audience!” 

“And then you jump!” Megumi falters in his haze, the mattress beneath menacingly far. 

“Come on! Go on! Jump, you’ll be fine. Jump!” Megumi swallows and jumps, landing harshly against the mattress. That was hardly graceful, he looked like a floundering fish. Thankfully behind the cliff you can't see anything.

“Okay! Everybody, get a drink of water. Then it’s notes.” 

Gojo shoots a thumbs up at him and Megumi weakly smiles through his panting. 

“You lost weight.” Yaga notes and Megumi nods. “Take off your cardigan.”

Megumi does, though hesitant. As it unravels his tries to lean away from the designer but she doesn’t mind, stepping in front of him to measure the length of shoulder to shoulder. As the older leaves to make notes Megumi leans slightly. In the reflection behind him, his pale hands scratch at the healed cuts. But, Megumi hasn't so much as moved from place. Nothing beside the rise and fall of his chest. _No, why now?_ Megumi fully turns back but all that meets him is his scared face. 

“Face front. I’m almost done.” The older man chides and Megumi slowly turns, heart beating faster.

“Good, that’s it.” Yaga finishes, removing the measure from around his chest. Megumi continues to stare at his reflection.

“Yaga?” A deep voice asks. Megumi’s ears perk up, rushing to the voice.

“You’re late. We have to get you measured for your Swan Queen costumes.”

“What’s he doing here?” Ryomen looks between them before staring Megumi straight in the eye.

“He made me your alternate.” Megumi shoves past him. 

“Because just in case!” Ryomen calls out but Megumi can hardly hear him. Not from the swirling of rough air swimming past his ears.

“Satoru. Satoru!” Megumi races down the flight of stairs. _This can't be. This couldn't. Why did it have to be him? So many other dancers - So many that have been here for years. Why Ryomen Sukuna? Why -_

“Satoru!” 

“Yes.” Gojo turns with an arched brow. He was talking with someone from the lighting crew, who shifts awkwardly beside him.

“It can’t be him.” Megumi whines and Gojo blinks. “It can’t be him.” 

Megumi feels the tears ready to fall. It's a piercing feeling, his face heating up in shame as he does so. If Gojo noticed he doesn't bring it up. He is as calm as stagnant water but what else did Megumi expect? Of course the director has experienced melt downs before. _Melt down? This is a melt down?_ Is he experiencing a melt -

“Kay, why don’t you just go on. I’ll be right with you.” Gojo turns back to face him. “What’s going on?”

He doesn't seem concerned. _God, he truly doesn't care anymore does he?_ Megumi is being replaced and he doesn't know what to do. He can't do anything to stop the events unraveling before him. Everything is going so fast, slipping away. No wail, no act of any kind can change this. This would have happened one way or the other. But why did it have to be... _him?_

“Ryomen. You made him my alternate?” The younger chokes out. It's all he can do from the throbbing of his throat that clenches together like a tight fist.

“Well, there’s always an alternate. Ryomen’s the best choice -”

“No, but he wants my role.” Megumi enunciates with wide eyes. His eyes begin to glaze over. Depending on Gojo's answer Megumi will crumble to the floor. Gojo laughs softly.

“Every dancer in the world wants your role.” _It's meant to be a compliment. It's meant to be a compliment._ That is meant to soothe him. _That_ is meant to soothe him? No but how can that - Don't let it come back. _I don't want you! Leave me alone!_ _Get away from me. Get away. Getawaygetawaygetaway -_

“No! This is different. He’s after me. He’s trying to replace me.” Megumi begins to sob with wide eyes, knuckles turning white on their hold to the railing beneath him. Megumi can't feel anything around him. Only the beating of his heart that stabs as his chest and the feeling of hot metal between his fingers. Gojo scoffs.

“Nobody’s after you.” He doesn't understand. He doesn't - _Why? WHY DOESN'T HE UNDERSTAND?_ This is Megumi's only chance and he's thrown it so far even Gojo can't understand where he's coming from. _But where are you coming from? The other you is watching. The other you is trying to -_

“No - Please believe me!” Megumi’s tears fall and Gojo’s eyes widen. The older seems so shocked and regretful he's acted so playful. He rushes to Megumi's side, who's knees buckle on the stairwell.

“Oh, no, no… Hey…” Gojo begins shushing him.

“I know it’s been a struggle but you just had a breakthrough this morning. Tomorrow is yours. Just give it a great performance and you won’t have to worry about Ryomen or anybody else.” Gojo smiles encouragingly. Long white fingers clasp either side of his cheeks. Megumi blinks as the tears fall. He cannot reply.

“Now go home and rest.” The older sighs out and Megumi nods softly. Gojo’s smile softens and he gently releases him, making his way down the stairs. Megumi’s feels weak. So very weak. All he wants to do is sleep off the dull pain across every limb of his body. The younger let's go of the railing and falls backward, pushing his palms into his sockets as his thighs wet with tears.

“From the revision again!” Megumi calls out. The younger begins, firm and fierce. The piano keys abruptly stop. 

“What happened?” He calls back and Nanami stands.

“I have a life you know.” Nanami gathers his things and walks toward the door.

“Don’t work too hard. It’s your big day tomorrow.” He nods at the younger and slips out the door. Just like that he is left alone. Megumi looks back to his reflection determined. He breathes in deep through his nose and begins again. His legs move beneath him, turning again and again. His target, the gaze in the mirror, slowly begins to bleed into the blur. Megumi’s pointe shoe slides as he stops. 

He lifts his arm but his reflection does not copy. His eyes widen as his breath begins to quicken, stepping back. _What the fuck? No, not now. This can't be happening now -_ The reflection begins to turn to him and he feels it. The gaze of deep blue eyes piercing along his neck. Megumi slowly begins to turn till everything turns black. _He needs to practice. He doesn't have time to -_

The lights shut off. 

The sound got his knees to unlock and he stumbles forward harshly against the still air. _Why is everything so quiet?_

“Hey! I’m still working in here!” He calls out through his heaving. The stage is completely empty. The only other source of light is the one that scathes across the audience seats, surrounded by curtains. A large black figure walks between the opening and Megumi races toward it.

“Could you please turn the lights back on?” 

Laughter.

“Hello?” The young man meekly calls out. He walks closer to the sound, a door ajar and open ever so slightly. He walks inside to Ryomen laughing, wrapping his arms around Gojo’s neck as he’s pushed forcefully into a table. They sound like beasts, Ryomen sweating like a pig for slaughter as Gojo’s snow white teeth suck along his neck and collarbones. Ryomen moans out hoarsely as they grind together feverishly. His neck turns to him, a deep chuckle leaving his lips. The skin melts off of him, emerging from the bath of blood, Megumi’s deep blue eyes. Megumi moves closer into Gojo’s hold as the older bites harshly into his chest. A smile of ecstasy across red slick lips, black locks moving with the thrusts of heated passion. Gojo’s body bursts into raven black feathers, a creature with a long pointed beak growling at him. 

Megumi sprints away. He races till his legs shake, sobbing as he opens his dressing room door and puts away his belongings. No, _Getou's belongings._ None of this is his. Nothing is his. He is losing his one and only chance to achieve it, to achieve perfection. When he’s out the theater doors he turns, his portrait staring seductively back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, thank you for reading this. Oh my god, why did you do this? You are amazing. I hope your life is going okay. Whatever it is that's happening, you got this okay? Don't give up.
> 
> Happy new year! Wowzas a new year. I wish I had looked more into everything but in all honesty, I simply don't have the time. This kinda just happened - Like I wanted to write this so I kinda did. 
> 
> I'm posting this because my brother told me not to. Idk if I'll ever finish it, I'm so sorry. I just want an adventure with these beautiful characters. 
> 
> If you haven't, feel free to check out my other work based on the handmaiden! Also jjk it's been a blast. No clue what's gonna happen so till next time darling! Have a wonderful day!


	2. act 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darling! Thank you for reading this far and I hope you enjoy. Happy Valentine's day!
> 
> Warnings: Familial abuse both verbal and physical, graphic depiction of violence and self harm.

Megumi rushes, the harsh fluorescent lights shining down on him as he makes his way through the hall. When he enters the room Getou rests haggardly on a wheelchair, back faced to him. Megumi slows in his step. His heart is beating so softly here amidst the quiet. It's so still the air feels stagnant. Getou must have fallen asleep. The young dancer begins to set down the pieces one by one on the table. A paper with Getou’s name, the pair of diamond earrings, a cologne bottle, the nail file - A sickly pale hang grabs his wrist. Megumi gasps, his body jumping slightly at the cold. Getou feels like death itself.

“What are you doing here?” Getou whispers in a daze and Megumi’s head shakes of its own accord.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry -” Getou let’s go of his arm, brows furrowed in confusion. Megumi continues to sob, the world becoming a blur as the steaming tears fall. It tastes so bitter against his tongue.

“I know how it feels now.” He huffs out, voice catching in his throat. Megumi can't bring himself to wipe away any of it. He deserves this. 

“He’s trying to replace me. W-What do I do?” Megumi pleads. He doesn't want to be replaced. Being there in those moments with Gojo felt like heaven. Like he was everything, all that existed. He wants to continue feeling that way. Even if he must ask the man the very same question he must have thought. 

But Getou does not reply to his plea. Instead, the older's gaze falls to the table and his tired eyes widen.

“You stole my things?” 

“I was just trying to be perfect… Like you…” His voice cracks, shaking in desperation. _Please. I must know. What must I do to keep Gojo’s attention on only me?_ Getou’s lips twitch slightly. 

“Perfect?” The older's hands fasten around the sharp nail file. Like a knife, it was truly, shaped at a pointed edge. Megumi didn’t know why he never questioned it before but that became the least of his worries. _What can he do to be perfect? To reach it now?_

“Perfect… I am nothing…” At that moment Getou’s shaking hand begins plunging the metal into his cheek. The sound coils something rotten in Megumi's stomach, the squelch and tear of skin making the younger's entire body freeze over.

“Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!” Getou cries in agony. He stabs the other side, skin ripping apart and blood seeping from the boarish movements. He was no longer the dancer Megumi looked up to. _How could this have happened? Why -_ But Megumi moves without thinking, the younger desperately grabbing to Getou’s hand to stop the spray of blood that seems endless. _Stop it. Stop it. You’re hurting yourself!_ But Getou’s too strong, blood dripping along Megumi’s coat and wrist. Megumi wants to hurl at the feeling of wet slips along his skin. The scent of metallic sweetness takes over the room.

“No!” Getou cries, turning forcefully to him. His hair ascue from its bun, wisps fly about at the animalistic gesture. Megumi’s smile widens. 

“Nothing - Nothing - Nothing!” Megumi giggles in glee as he continues to stab his cheek and the pale dancer runs away in tears across the hospital floor. _What the fuck. What the fuck -_ When he slips inside the elevator he goes to press the button only to have blood dripping from his hands. In his other, the nail file he had returned, nestled between his white fingers. Megumi drops it with a shaky exhale, sinking to his knees as the elevator dings. 

Megumi opens the door quietly, faint sobbing crackling through the darkened halls. He rushes to wash his hands, other sounds of things dropping from their shelves. It's as if Getou has followed him here. _Or was it him?_ But he has no marks along his cheeks, no feeling of pain anywhere. But Getou's horrid jaw, covered in darkened slick blood - Megumi rushes to the bathroom and bile leaves his throat. It burns, it burns so much. That metallic smell, the musk of sweetness. White eyes, the rip of skin as it tore apart. Megumi can still feel the sensation of his blood between his fingertips. Even now, stained and dried along his hands, beneath his nail beds. He'd heard how it sounded, those rips from the sharp of the blade. Megumi hurls harsher, grasping tighter to the toilet seat. 

The sobbing grows louder.

“Tsumiki?” He coughs out, stumbling out of the door. The young dancer turns on the light to all of the paintings in Tsumiki's room singing and screaming about with wide eyes. Him all of them staring with sickly sweet smiles. His fringe, his eyes, his rosy cheeks. Aghast their complections stretch as they continue in their torment. _Megumi! Megu! Oh sweetheart! Good boy! Slut! That's it -_

“STOP!” He chokes out and they copy with grinning teeth. _Tsumiki! Tsumiki! Oh, my sweet boy - Tsumiki! Megumi!_ He runs to them and rips the portraits from their nails. _Stop it, please stop it! Stop - Stop - Shut up now! Shut up!_

In the reflection behind him, he stares at himself covered in a bloody patient's dress. The other is walking toward him to kill him. He knows it, the glimmer of wanting in black eyes. _He’s gonna die? No! He can't die here! No! I refuse to die like this! No- Nononononononnonoo -_

“Oh my goodness!” Tsumiki shrieks. “What are you doing?”

Megumi cannot answer her. His throat hurts too much from the screaming and hurling to speak anything at all. He rushes past her, so raged in breath his head aches.

“Sweety?” She mumbles and Megumi stumbles into his room, grabbing the wooden doorstop. A sudden pain erupts in him and he cries out. _Fuck!_ He gasps at the sudden piercing pain, reaching for his shoulder blade.

“Megumi?” Tsumiki's voice is muffled by the closed door, but, it hardly matters. Megumi can't hear a thing. The white noise is growing louder, the beating of his heart like squeals of pigs. With blazing eyes, he walks toward his mirror.

"Megumi?"

“Go away!” He screams, inhaling faster and faster. The door shakes. 

“Open the door!”

“GO AWAY!” Megumi cries out as he rips off his jacket. He blinks at his reflection, his eyes red like blood. As if all the veins had burst. Fuck, his sockets are throbbing. It hurts, everything hurts. Just like Getou’s blood. Like _his_ blood. The piercing pain continues and he gasps turning to see movement beneath his skin across the various cuts. Small bubbles ripple across the skin like a bird plucked clean. It's as if he will sprout wings. His shaking hands reach for the ripples.

“Open the door!” Tsumiki cries as her body plunges against the wood. Megumi groans as his fingertip graze his cut, black feathers spurting from pink skin like thorns. 

"Megumi? Megumi!” A shrieking high voice wails. Tsumiki bangs harsher on the door. All Megumi can do is pull out a feather as small as his nail from his skin, shaking as he feels the toughness of its hollow shaft. Blood red eyes stare deeply at the raven black, the door slamming open.

 _“Get out!”_ Megumi grabs onto her and she winces.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tsumiki cries as sickly pale hands tighten across her arms. Megumi pushes her away and she stumbles. But Tsumiki won't go down without a fight. Her small hand grabs the doorframe. 

“You’re sick! You’re sick!” She’s shaking her head back and forth as he had once. She's trying to reason perhaps but Megumi will have none of it. Not when her hair is like the ripped threads of a tapestry. She is not perfect. She is nothing. Tsumiki will stop him from changing into anything but that boy in those paintings. But, not anymore. Never again.

_You can't control me._

“GET OUT!” He wails as he slams the door shut.

“Megumi!” Tsumiki screams in pain as her hand flies away. He’d felt it, the way her hand had been crushed, how hard it felt against his hold. He slams the door shut, Tsumiki’s wailing muffled just barely as he steps back in wheezing breaths. The young boy looks to his legs, cracking backward at his knees like a birds. He whines in pain, falling forward. As his body falls, for a moment he is weightless, something slamming against his forehead. 

The first thing he notices before anything else is a throbbing pain that ripples across his forehead. The young dancer groggily begins to awaken. A soft hand pats his forehead gently, slightly warm as if held tightly in a fist. Megumi goes to rub his face but it is covered in a sock, a rubber tie around his wrist. He shakes his head and his eyebrows furrow. _What the fuck? What time is it? He has to go._

“Shh. Shh. It’s okay. You were scratching all night.” _The show!_ Megumi lifts his body upward, still in a daze as he blinks rapidly.

“Where’s my clock?” He croaks. His throat feels so tight.

“Don’t worry about it…” She soothes as she runs her hands through his hair.

“What time is it?” He enunciates, staring down at her.

“Shh…”

“My show is tonight. I have to -”

“No, no. No.” She pushes him back and he writhes. Megumi remembers hitting his head against something. _Fuck, it’s pulsing now._ He can't get a bruise on his fucking forhead. Color corrector. Surely someone can help -

“No, don't worry. I called the theater and told them you weren’t feeling well.” 

_No. Anything but that._ Megumi forces himself up.

“I have to go.”

“No, lay down!” Tsumiki cries but Megumi pushes her off of him and she stumbles backward. He rips the covers away and rushes to the door. But there is no door knob for him to grasp. _Fuck. Fuck!_

“You’re staying in here until you feel better.” Tsumiki is trying so hard to be in control right now. But Megumi will not listen to reason. Not anymore. Not when he is so close he can taste it. Perfection will be his. And he has a _fucking_ job to do. Glazed eyes flit across the room. _Where could it be?_

“Where is it?” Megumi _won't_ ask again.

“This role is destroying you.” Tsumiki sighs as she sits on her chair. _So that's where it is._

“Move.”

“Megumi.” She cries softly, a tear falling from her cheek. Tsumiki is shaking her head gently, begging him to not do it. 

“Megumi? What happened to my sweet boy? Huh?” His hands find her broken hand and squeeze tight. She convulses in pain, a quiet scream falling from her spit slicken lips.

“He’s gone.” Megumi seethes out and throws her to the floor. He runs as fast as his legs can take him. _He will no longer be controlled. He will no longer submit. He’ll be free._ Her body had been so light to lift. All this time. It could have been so easy.

“No - Please! You’re not well!” She crawls after him, nails digging into his ankles but Megumi is stronger, ripping his leg away. 

“You can’t handle this!” Tsumiki pleads through her sobs.

“I can’t? I’m the _fucking_ Swan Queen! You’re the one who never left the chorus.”

“MEGUMI!”

Megumi walks in shaking steps, the lights of the theater entrance reflecting off of him. There are so many people here. They must have already begun letting people inside yet here they were, amongst themselves in idle chatter. Ready to take their seats. They've done rehearsal, sound check, lighting, all without him - 

“Megumi?” A soft voice calls. Megumi turns so quickly the other flinches back.

“H-Hey! Listen about last time - I’m sorry! I’m not usually like that? U-Um…” Itadori shivers in the cold, shrinking into himself. He’s blushing so profusely for a moment Megumi had almost forgotten about everything around him. But the crowd is large, slowly entering the theater like a constant reminder and Megumi _has_ to go. His heart cannot handle any more, truly. If he is any later he will surely end everything.

But here Itadori is, kind enough to come up to him and apologize for leaving so soon. For doing just what he wanted. It’s Megumi who should apologize. _It was your brother, not you. It was Sukuna I wanted._

“You are far too sweet for me,” Megumi whispers, his fingers trailing against the faintest sliver of warm skin from beneath Itadori’s scarf. His mouth opens slightly as Megumi’s head sinks into him. He seems so confused with his wide brown eyes. Such a soft light. Such _kindness._ Megumi can't remember the last time he's ever received it.

“Are you alright?” Itadori asks as he nestles his smooth skin across Megumi’s forehead. But the dancer no longer has time to dawdle. Megumi smiles, cherishing the hold around his fingertips. He steps back graciously, slipping from Itadori’s grasp whose eyes reflect all the life around him.

When Megumi gets into the bustle of the dancers and crew alike, the air itself seems lit with intense energy. Everyone is on edge, already in full makeup and costume. Final checks with tech issues have already been made, the last assistant slugging away to his spot.

“I have complete confidence in you.” Gojo’s voice murmurs up ahead. A few dancers turn and linger on Megumi's disheveled form.

“This is your moment.” Ryomen steps back from Gojo with wide eyes.

“What are you doing here?” He whispers in pure unadulterated spite. It seethes from his mouth like flames but Megumi brushes it away with disinterest. With boredom.

“Megumi?” Gojo turns in surprise, voice soft and ever faint. 

“What the fuck is he doing here? You were supposed to be sick!” Ryomen spits as Megumi slips past into his room. He doesn't have time for floundering morons. He will _perform_ , no matter what.

“Wait, wait. Wait.” Gojo enters the doors of Megumi’s dressing room. “Give us a minute.”

Megumi sits on his chair and begins to take out his makeup, dabbling the white paint onto his makeup sponge.

“Are you okay?” Gojo asks with a slight tremor in his voice. He seems worried. But, he has no reason to be? Megumi will show him. It’s as simple as that. He _will_ do this.

“I’m fine.” Megumi smiles and Gojo looks back to the door awkwardly.

“Uh - Megumi.” Megumi continues to put on the paint along his cheekbones and forehead. 

“Megumi.”

“What?” 

“I’ve already asked Sukuna.” Gojo sighs, sliding his hands into his pockets. _So cute._ As if that will stop him.

“Have you announced it?” Megumi raises his brow and Gojo’s eyes lower. That's a definite no.

“After Getou do you really need another controversy?” Megumi tilts his head. Gojo leans back, a slight smirk on his lip. He must sense it. The change that has begun and festered. It's growing fast, a spreading fungus that ripened across the young man's chest. Megumi continues to apply his makeup with determination.

“I’m here Satoru. _I’m doing it.”_ Gojo sighs and comes forward, leaning to his ear and staring into his eyes through the mirror.

“The only person standing in your way is _you._ It’s time to let him go. _Lose yourself.”_

Megumi pats at his shoulder blade with a puff. His scratches shouldn’t be seen. Only ever faint by the first row, maybe. His makeup is complete, delicate wings and a clean cut of black eyeshadow. Pink lips and blush, more intense but the stage lights will wither it. Megumi checks again, the pink of his cuts. There's no way anyone will be able to see anything. A faint knock echoes throughout his dressing room.

“White Swan. Entrance in ten.” Megumi pulls off his leg warmers, some of his toes sticking together. _Fuck._ He pulls at them till the sticky skin separates, grimacing and slipping on his tights. 

Megumi walks down the halls. Now, it is time. In the stage wing, surrounded by fog, Okkotsu turns with his bow and arrow. The White Swan will be shot and then chased. Their first meeting, then to fall in love as if nothing else in the world mattered. To be forever ruined by this love and meet his end. Megumi looks through the peephole of the stage. Every seat is filled, the audience as far as the eye can see.

“What are you doing? You need to be upstage.” The stage manager murmurs and Megumi rushes to the back curtain. The violins are forming as one, beginning to crescendo. Megumi leaps across the stage, behind him the moon and lights pooling across his figure. He is standing on the lake, becoming human again. The Prince will see him, the delicate and pure form of hope. A series of claps burst through the crowd. The lead has finally arrived. 

His brows arch as his arm extends toward the sky, his pointe shoes gliding beneath him as he traces his steps forward. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him, as he moves about like a fluff of dandelion. Okkotsu enters with his bow and arrow, curious and hesitant and Megumi looks to him, mouth agape. In shock, in fear. Who is this man, the swan must wonder. But, it’s there, an ever looming connection between them. It has sparked like nothing else ever has. The spotlight follows Megumi's every move, Okkotsu just out of reach as he tries to grasp the light around the pale lithe figure. 

Soon they are exciting off the stagehand in hand, surrounded by dancers in white alike. As they glide into the red draped wing, the ballerinas that exit giggle, catching Megumi’s eye. _What the fuck -_ It’s Megumi's face, his lips, his blue eyes. Across all of them. Megumi's head turns back before he can even comprehend but then, there's nothing. Nothing amidst, the ballerina's are simply beginning the dance of the cygnets. Hand in hand they move in complete unison. Yet, something stirs in Megumi's chest, a flutter that won't go away.

 _Fuck, why is this happening now?_ Megumi catches Gojo’s gaze across the stage who nods in appreciation. So far everything is going well. Perfect even, not a single mistake. Not a single regret or arm left unextended. The younger nods back but then a blur of a figure catches his eye. It's Okkotsu who jogged past, smiling slightly. Ryomen grabs the younger’s hands and Megumi turns away. _What the fuck is Okkotsu doing?_

_Why does he care?_

_Stop it. Stop it. Stop, just leave it alone._ Megumi disappears further into the wing, the song ending, and the ballerinas' exiting. 

“Sup.” Todo nods past, in a full feather robe. His makeup is astonishing, a complete beak like mask that melds perfectly into his skin. It is horrid and dementing, Rothbart his captor. Ryomen's damned eyes. So full of heat. Full of happiness. _Damm it. Damn it._ Megumi nods at the taller slightly out of breath as a stagehand gestures for him to enter. 

Okkotsu and Megumi rush onto the stage as various ballerinas lean forward and flit their hands like ripples of water. Okkotsu lifts Megumi up, and Megumi arches his neck as far as it can go. Slowly Okkotsu begins to turn them. Everyone's eyes. He can feel it prickling against his skin, raising the hair along his arms.

Ryomen is there amongst the swans, the faces of all the dancers beginning to blur together as harsh whispers evade his senses. _No, please. Not now! Focus Megumi focus. Stay still. Don't move._ The lights blare into his eyes and Megumi minutely winces. As his eyes graze across the dancers Megumi stands in the corps, glaring up at him. The young dancer's breath falters, jolting back. Okkotusu groans as he loses his grip across the paler’s leg. It all happened so fast. The support beneath him is gone like a flash of lightning, and for what seemed an eternity, Megumi sat on the stage. With beating eyes he faces the entirety of the audience. 

At the gasps, everything deafened completely. The lights blare again in his eyes and yet Megumi simply gawks like a deer in headlights. Suddenly, arms lift him from his armpits and he glides along his toes, body moving solely from memory. 

“What the fuck?” Okkotsu murmurs as he turns them away from the audience, the array of dancers splitting down the middle for the pair. Megumi feels tears begin to well in his eyes as Okkotsu’s perspiring hands leave his waist. _Fuck. Oh, fuck._

Megumi arches his neck away, holding to himself as their hands guide one another's. The other leans into him and the lithe man reaches backward, the corps splitting apart as Megumi is guided down stage. Megumi leans to Okkotsu as he kneels, begging the swan to stay. But Megumi can’t. The second act will soon begin. The beginning of the end. _Holy shit. You fucking fell. You fell!_

They hold one another, the violins building in their wails till finally, release. _You were just there, gawking._ Todo enters and Megumi moves like a puppet, arms extended as if hanging on a cross, firm and deathly afraid. _You just stared and the audience stared back._ Todo’s hand guides him across the stage, as the ballerinas' exit. The violins begin their second crescendo and Megumi thrusts his arms outward, his back toward the audience. _You couldn't do anything but sit there._

The moon has risen, the boy becoming a swan once more. The trail of moonlight glistens beneath Megumi’s toes as his hands flutter about. The tears slip from his jaw as the curtain begins to drape across the stage. _Fuck. Holy fuck!_

“Are you okay?” Someone murmurs as Megumi huffs out in quiet sobs. Various dancers rush to him, surrounding his dampened figure.

"What happened?” _I fell._

“Are you alright?" _I fucked up._

“Are you okay?” Nobara’s firm hand holds his shoulder and Megumi sniffles, looking up so his makeup can't completely smudge. Okkotsu is all that is left on the stage, the somber tone of the cellos chilling as he reaches one final time toward the audience. The prince is longing so much for his love. 

Megumi's is _fucked._

“Can you tell me what the fuck happened?” Gojo walks across the stage as soon as the curtains are completely sealed. Megumi rushes away from the concerned hands that gather like flies. _You're smothering me. Get away._ Okkotsu looks to the wall and rushes out. He’s fuming. Frustrated but he’s better than Megumi is. He won’t yell at him despite the shame he must feel. But he can't deal with this and neither can Megumi. A short man rushes past, most likely Inumaki but Megumi can't pay attention. Not when steel cold eyes look down at him like the trash he is.

“It wasn’t my fault! He dropped me -” Megumi pleads but Gojo will have none of it.

“That was a _fucking_ disaster.”

Megumi is still crying by the time he opens his dressing room. 

“Rough start, huh? That must have been pretty humiliating…” Megumi stiffens, back colliding against his door. There in his seat, Ryomen smirks, applying the last of _his_ _eyeshadow_. There the older rests with a black flowy shirt cinched across his middle a tight lace vest with ruffles of feathers sprouting like black lilies. It is just as Ryomen was when he first saw him. Intense, taunting, confident. _Perfection._

Megumi sighs in frustration, gesturing toward his door as he spits out, “Get out of my room!”

“See, it’s just… I’m worried about the next act…” Ryomen pouts out with a drawl and Megumi takes in a shaky inhale.

“I’m just not sure you’re feeling up to it.” Ryomen finishes, setting down his makeup brush. 

“Stop! Please stop!” Megumi pleads but Ryomen only replies with a low chuckle.

“How about…” Ryomen turns, Megumi facing himself. _“I dance the black swan for you.”_

The other Megumi gets up from the chair and lunges forward. For a moment, Megumi leans back into the door, huffing out not in fear but utter quiet anger. _You bitch._

Megumi rushes forward, hands craving blood.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Megumi yells as he grabs the others shoulders, smashing the body into the mirror. The crack of it echoes throughout the room as the other him falls. Megumi is dragged with the body till his heaving lessens. There lays his pale face, asleep with broken mirror shards beside his feather black hair. Megumi slowly lifts himself away. _Wait - What? What the -_

The other Megumi’s eyes jolt open, seizing for his neck and Megumi gasps in pain as he feels his pulse quicken. The firmness of his hands tighten further, and slowly Megumi begins to lose even the faintest of breath. His heart throbs harsher against his ribs, sight beginning to blur as if mist has erupted throughout the room. Megumi fights with all his strength, arching back as he groans but the other him is determined. His eyes are lit with a blazing heat of anger, digging further into the skin around him. Spit flies from Megumi’s lips as their bodies shake and convulse together. 

“It’s my turn! My turn!” The paler guffs as Megumi’s trembling mouth widens. “My turn!”

 _He’s going to die! No, No, nononononono -_ Megumi’s hand flounders beside him, a shard of mirror in his grasp as he plunges it forward. His neck stretches upward and the deep blue eyes before him widen in fear, a toughness in his movement as he twists the glass. 

_“It’s my turn.”_ Megumi seethes with fury, eyes blood red. 

Ryomen whines, blood spurting from his mouth as he drags his wide eyes down Megumi’s trembling frame to his impaled stomach. Megumi blinks in a frenzy as he slowly lifts himself away. _What the fuck - What have you done?_ Ryomen's eyes are so wide yet his breath can hardly be heard. The tanner's head falls back against the broken glass with a dull thud. Megumi can do nothing but heave as his entire body convulses. Ryomen’s warmth slowly leaves him from beneath the underside of Megumi's thighs, stiff and breathless beneath the younger’s straddle. 

“Black swan, places in 5.” A voice knocks and Megumi bites his lips to keep his wails muffled. _The show. The show -_ Megumi grabs the other's black stockings, dragging Ryomen's body by the ankles into his bathroom. There’s no life in his eyes. _He’s dead._ Ryomen's last breath was laced with fear. And _he_ had done it. _Megumi had ended it. Megumi, what the fuck have you done? What the fuck -_ Megumi heaves but no air can enter a chest that refuses to expand. _Breathe, breathe. Megumi. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe -_

The show _must_ go on. 

The pale dancer looks up, back arching back ever slowly as his jaw tenses. His eyes become red, a film of blood over them. Perfection is _his._

The trumpets blare as the see through doors open, revealing the black swan in all his glory. In a crown and black birdcage veil, he taunts the audience with wide crazed eyes as Todo’s strong grip holds to his waist. There's a change in the air. It's hot, sticky. It feels wonderfully against the pale of his skin, the stretch of every muscle. The audience has changed to. They can't look away no matter what. Todo lifts him slightly in the air, the harsh firm movements of their arms matching one another's to the staccato beats. The blacks swan's arms flair upward as Rothbart roughly spins him, caught in the air as seductive arms whirl around him. He snakes about the stage, every eye on him laced with this intoxicating heat. On every flick of his wrist and arch of his neck. This is far better than any sex he's ever had. The Black Swan smirks in triumph as the Prince fails to so much as graze him. He doesn’t deserve to touch him. No one does. 

The poor Prince leans into him and the swan leans back playfully, lids drooping as lashes flutter. The older's lips twitch slightly. He can feel it against his bones, the excited energy. _Megumi is doing this._ No, he is doing better than anyone ever has. He knows it, is willing it. In this moment, Megumi is perfect. 

_Perfection tastes divine._

Who knew the weight of everyone's batter breath across his skin could feel better than orgasm. Megumi spins slowly, arms raising himself without a care in the world as he leaps off the stage. Okkotsu follows after him, bumping into his back behind the safety of the curtain. 

“Wow!” The older sighs out, but Megumi can hardly hear anything. This feels _too_ good. He's ready to burst complete from this sickening sweet heat. From the pleasure that sinks into his bones. And he wants more. _So much more._ The pleasure is building and building and Megumi lets it. He gasps out slowly, neck leaning as his long pale arms reach backward to undo his veil. As it falls to his side his shoulders roll. Enchantment at every movement, delightful and effortless. Collarbones move beneath his skin as he saunters forward, neck rolling with a soft exhale. Megumi is brilliant.

The music begins in it’s glorious blares as Megumi looks down to his arms, ripples of goosebumps flaring down the pale and back. His painted black hands have never been so still, so confident. Megumi smiles, his red lips stretching as his manic eyes gloss across the stage. Out of every moment, these foutess are where he will achieve it. The very thing pushing him down since the beginning is what will make him achieve past perfection itself. The Black Swan smirks as he enters, lowering his stance. The spotlights has never felt so gentle as he raises his arms, the beginnings of feathers spurting from his limber arms. Megumi turns and turns, every dancer, every audience member's eyes on him, sticking like honey. His smirk deepens as the feathers unravel fully into wings across his shoulder blades. 

Everyone’s breath is so scant as _Megumi_ takes up the stage. _He is spellbinding._ Perfection itself can hold nothing to him as the music soars around him and only him. With each blare the dancer's arms extend, long feathers whipping with him. The end has come far too fast. As Megumi's neck arches backward, arms with him stretch and his feathers drip from their soft blackness droplets of sweat. The music is deafened by praise, the audience standing from their seats as they cheer in pure ecstasy. 

He’s done it. _Megumi’s fucking done it!_

He bows, extending his arms as if smoke from a pipe and the crowd only roars louder. He smirks at them, peering below as he walks off the stage, company alike on the tips of their toes, clapping with a jitteriness only a kid could possibly feel. They split apart as he walks past and god damn does it feel as good as it should.

“Go! Go back!” Gojo laughs and Megumi stops right before him, staring straight into the clear blue. The crowd is still clapping and whistling away but Gojo sees only him, hears nothing but white noise and Megumi’s faint breath. Gojo swallows at the lack of fear in those hazy eyes, white lashes fluttering for a moment before leaning forward as if lulled by a siren. Megumi only scoffs, licking his lips as he places a finger on Gojo’s beating lips. _You wish you could have me now, don’t you?_

It says it all in how Gojo purses his lip against the tip of Megumi’s pointed finger before the shorter slips away, back into the luminent stage. The stare of heat is as unsettling as it is intoxicating. The dancer's shadow is overcast behind him so large in size Megumi feels inhuman. And he was, in that moment. In that single moment, he’s ached for all his life. Megumi’s cheeks hurt from how much he’s smiling.

It seems the spell he’s cast still lingers as he walks down the stairs to his dressing room, all who pass turning their heads at his strong back. 

“Great job! Fifteen till the next act.” A man mutters as a line of chorus girls giggle past, muffled from the faint overture echoing through the halls. When Megumi enters his dressing room, he’s met with shattered glass. His hands freeze, knees locked in place before closing the door behind him. Nothing can last forever, not even the kind of euphoria that seeps into your blood like silk. So that all you can do in drunken bliss, in complete ecstasy, is breathe. Blood seeps beneath the bathroom door and Megumi hurries to find a towel, draping it at the wooden edge to soak up his sin. 

When he’s changed back to the white swan, the base of white paint dabbles across his nose like a mask. A faint knock reaps across his door and Megumi looks faintly. First to the broken glass swept away to the side and the towel on the floor. Nothing would be amis if he doesn’t open his door too much. Right, he’ll be fine. No one has the need to come inside. Megumi rushes, all the pent up air in his lungs gone in a gasp at the sight before him. Ryomen smiles excitedly, eyes softer than he’s ever seen them.

“Hey!” The shorter nods shyly. “You were amazing. Seriously I know that things got a little messed up between us. But I mean - Holy shit you completely blew me away -” Ryomen gasps as Megumi plunges forward, sinking his lips into the other. This can’t be real. Yet the tanner melts in Megumi’s cold hands, lips warm and gentle as they move as one. When Megumi leans back Ryomen’s eyes are glazed over, surprised but not regretful. Lips stained in red he licks them slightly. So this is how Ryomen tastes. Sweeter than he imagined. This is real, he knows it from the slight tremor of the shorters wrist at his piercing gaze.

“Um…” Ryomen swallows for a moment, fiddling with his nails that for once aren’t painted black. It’s in this instance Megumi realizes Ryomen Sukuna is younger than him. 

“I guess that’s it? I-I’ll let you finish.” Ryomen’s eyes dart up for a moment before waving and walking away, white feathers woven into the back of his vest swinging with his light step. Megumi stares aghast as the back becomes smaller and smaller before closing the door. _How is this possible?_ _What?_ Ryomen is _dead._ In his bathroom, body limp and stiff. But there’s no way that was Itadori. Faint etches of black tattoos were covered but nonetheless there like an imprint. 

Megumi looks to the glass and towel, slowly moving it away from the closed bathroom door. It’s dry, any blood seeping from it nonexistent. He opens the door to nothing but harsh fluorescent lights. _No, no way._ Megumi backs away like a child, neck refusing to look down. _This can’t be._ But he _must._ He _has_ to know. 

The young dancer shakily inhales as tears film over his blue eyes, jaw sinking into his adams apple as there, in his stomach a deep red gash resides. He winces as his pointer finger dips inside, a piece of a mirror shard between his fingertips that he rips with a forceful tug. The tears fall so quietly in this moment. There’s no way he’ll survive this. 

He cannot stop the show now. Not after everything. After being used and discarded, marred and tricked. He won’t back down now, not when the end is so near. Megumi looks around and moves like a puppet to his seat. He holds back his sobs with a trembling lip as he fixes the paint that smudged from his steaming tears. 

The young dancer floats across the stage as the chorus flut behind him. Turning and reaching for the sky, as they soar around him like a sea of birds. The prince turns his body gently and leaves him, Rothbard taking his final chance as well with a gracious spin. The lights and people blur together as one, his heart beating faster and faster with the patter of pointe shoes. The brass section cries as Megumi is lifted by the prince in this whirlwind before the strength of Rothbard follows. He is set down gently to the center, the swans spreading like a flock toward the audience as Megumi races up the mountain. The White Swan’s suicide. He will die, just as she had. It is strange this feeling. Knowing every moment that passes is one closer to your final breath. The stage lights blare as Megumi flutters his wings, reaching for Rothbard and then, the Prince. He can feel the blood spreading across his abs, staining the white of his vest in its wake. Megumi forces his gaze straight ahead into the pit of the audience, locking eyes with a set of brown in tears. It’s Tsumiki, her mouth agape as tears slip from her jaw. She understands now, how much she held onto something that was never meant to be caged.

For once, Megumi does not have to fake what he feels. His life is ending. He can feel it in the ache of his arms as they rise and fall at his sides. His chest will no longer expand, the thought cementing this fact as he struggles to inhale, to clear the blur of the colors around him. So he looks with unadulterated terror for one final time at his sister, whose brows furrow ever so slightly. She aches, sinking into herself. But Megumi is determined. A tear slips as he hardens his gaze, looking up to the sky as his arms lift. His white swan will not leave afraid, she will accept her fate despite her despair. 

He’s achieved all he’s ever wanted. Perfection and soared past it. Broken free of his sister and kissed a boy he thought he’d never truly know. With the last of his strength he jumps, and, for a moment, everything is still. Silent despite the air rippling with the faint melody of a harp that coos his tired eyes. He exhales, but for once it is as gentle as the sway of a tree, the pad beneath him cushioning his landing. 

The dancers swarm around him, all in great big smiles as the audience claps louder. Amongst the sea of happiness, a man with white hair enters the fray, glasses forgotten as he falls to his knees at Megumi’s side.

“Did you hear me! They love you! They love you.” Gojo giggles, looking years younger from the bliss that overtakes him. Megumi can only breathe, ever so faintly now, unable to move as his heart begins to soften. It’s strange. His racing heart will finally calm and rest. Megumi doesn’t feel afraid. He feels so calm it’s as if he’s falling asleep. 

“My little prince. Oh, I knew you had it in you.” The older holds tenderly to Megumi, the warmth of his hands more shocking than the fact Megumi can barely keep his eyes open. 

“Come on. Let’s take your bow.” Gojo speaks so softly it echoes and blends with the song of cheering. A sudden gasp erupts, the very same as the one he kissed away. Ryomen stumbles forward as Gojo leans away, a sea of eyes looking at the red that spreads at every exhale. It’s soaked the entirety of his stomach now, seeping to the pad beneath him but it feels as faint as rainwater. 

“Go get some help!” Gojo yells as some colors rush away from the crowd of white, feverish as he leans over Megumi with crazed eyes. 

“What did you do?” The older seems quite out of breath as if begging for a reply but Megumi cannot answer. 

“What did you do?” Ryomen whispers beside him. Megumi looks at him for a moment, a gentle smile across his lips as Ryomen’s eyes water. He looks like Itadori, afraid and _human._ Megumi turns back to Gojo, who also looks ready to burst into tears as he holds Megumi's hand tighter.

“I felt it.” Megumi murmurs and Gojo leans forward.

“What?” He shakes his head, confused but kind. 

“Perfect.” Megumi sighs with a breathless smile. The victorious music melts into the distant voices, Megumi sinking back into the fabric beneath him. The lights of the stage above feel like the sun of a spring far gone. He was perfection and it was _everything_ he’s ever wanted. Megumi’s smile widens.

“It was perfect.” 

The audience screams of euphoric cheer blur with the white light above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THIS! WHAT? You are incredible, like what? You've just completed my second fanfic which is just so wild. Definitely not what I had in mind to post on Valentine's day. 
> 
> This took for fucking ever to finish. It's been in my drafts haunting me but I was so worried. The first half of this had me freaking out cause of how intense the scenes were to write. I want to say I had fun writing this but I'm not that confident in my writing abilities. I just feel bad that I can only hope to achieve writing something as masterful as the Black Swan.  
> But I'm still proud of the outcome? I know... kinda counterintuitive. It was stressful but I'm happy with the result. 
> 
> Idk what to do next cause I have so many ideas. Like y'all... phantom of the opera?? HAAHA. Or Leon the Professional?? Oh my goD. So many things - It's crazy. If you were wondering I used the Black Swan (2010) final script by Mark Heyman, Andres Heinz, and John McLaughlin. You can buy or rent the movie YouTube, Amazon Prime, and Vudu. 
> 
> Anyhoo, I hope you have a wonderful day. I'm so thankful you've read this and whatever is going on, I believe in you.


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